Myths and Folk-tales of the Russians, Western Slavs, and Magyars

by Jeremiah Curtin

CHEKH MYTHS AND FOLK-TALES.

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BOYISLAV, YOUNGEST OF TWELVE.

ONCE there was a king who groaned many a day; doctors came from far and near, but they could not cure him. At last his condition was such that one day all thought he must die. The following night he had a marvellous dream. It seemed to him that he was on Black Island, had freed three princesses, and straightway recovered. When he woke he felt a certain relief, but had almost forgotten the dream. The next night he had the same dream, and again on waking felt easier, but did not ascribe the relief to his dream. The third night he had no dream, but a vision, in which the three princesses appeared to him and said: “Free us, and thou wilt recover; if not, thou wilt die.” Then they vanished, and the terrified king felt such pain that he could barely wait till morning. He summoned his twelve sons in haste, and when he had told them of his vision he said in a sad voice: “But how can I, poor man, go on a long journey to Black Island, of which I have never even heard?”

“I will go instead of thee,” said Boyislav, the youngest son, with decision.

“We will all go,” said the others, looking angrily at Boyislav, whom they hated with all their hearts, because he was his father’s favorite.

“Ye cannot all leave me; and thou, Boyislav, surely not,” said the king, shaking his head. “Who would there be to reign in my place?”

“Let Boyislav stay at home,” said the eldest; “besides, he would be merely a hindrance to us on the road.”

“I a hindrance!” said Boyislav, flushing up with anger and pity. “Let me go, father; I will free the princesses alone.”

His brothers began to laugh at him and then to dispute as to who should go to Black Island. Since they could not decide, the king said: “I know that ye would all gladly serve me, but since some of you must stay at home, I will make six blank lots and six written ones; whoever draws a written one will go, whoever a blank will remain.”

The princes were satisfied and drew lots. They were angry when Boyislav drew a prize, and the king was sad; but he had given his word and could not withdraw it. That very day the princes set out and Boyislav with them. While on dry land they were prosperous; it was worse when they entered a boat and knew not whither to turn. Boyislav said that they ought to go north, but his brothers laughed at him. When they had sailed many weeks in one direction and another without finding Black Island, they were glad to follow his advice; and the third day they arrived at the place, but so terrible was it that no one dared to land save Boyislav. He took provisions and sprang on shore, telling his brothers to await his return. While light lasted he ran up and down on the island, but saw nothing except black rocks. He was forced to pass the night on a bare stone, but rose early, completely refreshed by sleep, and examined farther.

One day passed, and a second; the third day appeared, and still he found nothing. At last, in the evening, he came to a large stone, which seemed to him hewn out by men’s hands. He lifted with all his might, turned it over, and found a great dark opening, from which a pleasant odor arose. He went down without delay, and soon found himself in a glorious garden, in which were three golden castles at a great distance. He gazed with astonishment; though there were things there without number such as he had never seen before, still his attention was attracted first by three horses, which rushed around him three times in a wild gallop, and then vanished in the twinkle of an eye. Boyislav looked after them, and heard a voice saying: “I welcome thee, Boyislav, youngest of twelve!”

He looked on every side, but could see no one. The voice cried out the second time: “I welcome thee, Boyislav, youngest of twelve!”

Now he knew where the voice came from; but though he went in that direction and examined everything very carefully, he could see no one. Only after the voice had called much louder than the first and second time, “I welcome thee, Boyislav, youngest of twelve!” did he see behind a rock a famished little horse, so poor that he could count all its ribs.

“What dost thou want of me?” asked Boyislav, not a little astonished that the horse knew him.

“’Tis thy wish to free the three princesses,” answered the horse; “then listen to what I advise: In the first castle thou wilt find the first princess, who will greet thee with kindness beyond measure, and offer thee food and drink. Eat with relish, but let not the princess eat with thee or kiss thee. Take what is left of the food when thou hast eaten, and go to the second castle; there the second princess will greet thee with still greater kindness, and offer food and drink. Eat with relish, but for no reason let her eat with thee or kiss thee. Take what is left after eating, and go to the third castle, where the third princess will give thee the most kindly reception of all, and place food and drink before thee; eat freely, but let not the princess eat with thee or kiss thee. Take what is left, and come here to me.”

“Is nothing more needed to gain their freedom?” asked Boyislav.

“Nothing,” answered the horse; “but thou must not speak a word all this time.”

“That is very easy,” thought Boyislav.

But the horse said with great emphasis: “Have a care; for to thee ’tis a question of life or death.”

Boyislav went with quick step to the first castle, where a princess of wonderful beauty ran forth toward him. “I welcome thee, Boyislav, youngest of twelve!” cried she, with glad voice. “How art thou here? Come to my chamber; let me give thee good cheer. What is thy father doing? How are thy brothers?”

Then she took his hand and seated him at the table, to which she brought the most savory food and drink, continually speaking of his home. But he gave no regard; and when she wished to eat with him, he thrust her aside without mercy. Then he seized what was left of the food and hurried away. The princess gave him the sweetest of names, and stretched her hands toward him, but he acted as if he neither saw her nor heard her.

At the second castle a still more beautiful princess ran toward him, greeted him with still greater gladness, led him into a chamber, seated him at a table, and brought the most savory food and drink, talking continually. She moved toward him, wishing to kiss him; but he thrust her aside very rudely, so that she fell to the floor. Before she could rise he had taken what was left of the food, and was gone.

He had barely reached the third castle when a princess ran out to meet him. She was far more beautiful than the other two, and wished to fall on his neck straightway. He was amazed at her beauty; but keeping in mind the words of the horse, he thrust her away. But still she led him into the castle, seated him at a table in the loftiest chamber, and entertained him with the best food and drink. Boyislav ate and drank heartily, but when the princess wished to eat, he pushed her aside so rudely that, after staggering a few steps, she fell to the floor. Then, quickly gathering the remnants of food, he ran off, though the princess called him with heart-rending voice.

When he came to the horse he spread on the rock the remnants of food, which the horse devoured eagerly. “What now?” asked Boyislav.

“Go for the three princesses, and bring them to thy brothers in the boat; they are free, for they are the horses which thou hast seen running around thee. A wicked sorceress enchanted them, so that twelve hours they were horses and twelve hours princesses. Then come for me, or thou wilt suffer.”

Boyislav did as the horse desired, and brought to his brothers the three princesses, who, with tearful eyes, thanked him for their liberation. Then he returned to the horse, which said, with sad voice: “Too bad! too bad!”

“What has happened?” asked Boyislav.

“Thou art unfortunate,” answered the horse; “thy departure from home was unfortunate, for know that thy brothers have gone.”

“Then I must perish here!” cried Boyislav.

“Now thou wilt not perish; but hadst thou gone on the boat thy death would be sure, for thy brothers had conspired to kill thee.”

“Oh, the thankless wretches!” cried Boyislav. “What shall I do now?”

“If thou wilt obey me,” said the horse, “thou wilt gain thy object in time. Go now to the garden of the first castle, and pluck four golden apples, but only four.”

Boyislav went, and for the first time noticed the beauty of the whole garden; he went back and forth, and would have soon forgotten the apples had he not heard the neighing of the horse. Now he saw the tree with golden apples, and plucked four. Since they were so beautiful, he wanted more, but the horse neighed so fiercely that the whole castle trembled; his arm, which was stretched to the apples, dropped of itself, and he returned to the horse, which said, “Now sit on me.”

Boyislav did so, and the horse bore him soon to the shore of the sea, and said, “Throw an apple in the sea.”

“But it is a pity to lose it!” said Boyislav.

“Throw it in!” repeated the horse, with stern voice; and Boyislav obeyed. That moment a road five hundred miles long rose out of the sea. The horse stepped on the road, and hurried along night and day. When the domes of a great city were seen in the distance, he said to Boyislav: “Now we are going to Red Island, to a king who has a very ugly daughter; but have no fear in the world of her. When she casts eyes on thee, say that thou art seeking a bride, but before choosing thou must consult thy father. Then the king will offer thee a present; take nothing but a piece of rope for my bridle.”

Boyislav promised obedience. When they came to Red Island, the road sank in the sea, and the horse hurried on. Boyislav left him on the meadow outside the city, and went straight to the king’s castle, where he was courteously received. “Where art thou going, noble prince?” asked the king.

“In search of a bride,” answered Boyislav; and the king led him to his daughter. She was so ugly that Boyislav was frightened.

“Does she not please thee?” asked the king.

“Oh, she pleases me,” said Boyislav,—“pleases me greatly; but first I must talk with my father.” The king smiled, and led his guest to the supper-chamber, where he was entertained in king’s fashion. Boyislav wished to go very soon, but the king took him first to his treasury, and offered him much gold and silver.

“Thanks to thy Grace!” answered Boyislav. “My father has great treasures also; but if thou wilt make me some present, give me a piece of rope to repair my horse’s bridle.”

“Oh, I will give thee a splendid bridle and saddle!” said the king.

But Boyislav answered: “I wish no rich outfit on the road; it is an enticement to robbers.”

The king tried to persuade him, but could not; then he had a rope brought which was very slender, but very long, so that Boyislav was hardly able to bear it away. After a kindly farewell to the king and the princess, he hastened outside the town, where the horse called from a distance: “Thou hast done well; now wind that rope round my body.”

Boyislav opened the bundle, and a whole hour passed before he could wind the rope around the horse. When he had finished, they hurried to the sea, where the horse said, “Throw a second apple in the sea.”

“But it would be an eternal pity!” said Boyislav.

“I tell thee to throw the second apple in the sea!” repeated the horse, with stern voice. Boyislav obeyed. That moment five hundred miles of road rose from the waves of the sea, along which the horse rushed like the wind, night and day. When the domes of a great city were visible in the distance, he said to Boyislav: “Now we are coming to Green Island, ruled by a king who has a daughter, not beautiful and not ugly; thou wilt say that thou art looking for a bride, but before choosing thou must consult thy father. When thou art taking leave, the king will offer all kinds of jewels as a gift; accept nothing, but ask for the cloth of the table from which thou hast eaten.”

Boyislav promised this. When they had come to Green Island, the road sank in the sea, and the horse hurried toward the city. The horse remained in a meadow outside the gates. Boyislav went to the palace, where he was welcomed by the king, and presented to the princess.

“What brought thee to me?” asked the king.

“I am in search of a bride,” answered Boyislav, looking at the princess, who seemed pleased at his words.

“And hast thou found one?” asked the king.

“Not yet,” replied Boyislav.

“Does my daughter not please thee?” The princess blushed.

“Oh, she pleases me greatly,” said Boyislav, “but first I must talk with my father.”

The king frowned at these words, and the princess was flushed with anger; but Boyislav changed not, and was so courteous that the king grew ashamed, and conducted him to the supper-chamber, where there was a small table covered with a poor-looking cloth, but upon which stood the choicest food and drink. Boyislav ate with relish. When he had finished, the king took him to his treasure-chamber, where he offered him the richest presents; but Boyislav said: “My father has many treasures, and I prefer to travel unburdened.” When the king insisted on his taking something as a keepsake, even if of the smallest value, Boyislav said: “Give me the cloth of the table on which I was entertained by thee.”

“Oh, I should be ashamed to give such a thing,” said the king. “I will give thee another very skilfully woven.”

“I want no other,” answered Boyislav, making ready to go.

“Then take it,” said the king, giving the cloth with evident reluctance.

Boyislav parted with him and the princess, and hastened to the horse, which called out from afar: “Thou hast done well; now sit on my back, we’ll fare farther.” Boyislav sprang on the horse, and he raced over Green Island till he came to the sea.

“Throw the third apple in the sea,” said the horse.

“But ’tis a pity forever to lose it,” said Boyislav.

“Throw the third apple in the sea, I say,” commanded the horse, sternly; and Boyislav obeyed.

That moment a road five hundred miles long rose from the waves of the sea. The horse ran like a flash, day and night, till they saw in the distance the domes of a great city.

“Now we are nearing White Island,” said the horse, “where a king reigns who has the most beautiful daughter under the sun. All the people on the island are asleep; for in the king’s palace a taper is burning which never burns out, and till some one quenches it they must all sleep. Go to the palace, look at the princess as much as may please thee, then take the taper, but be careful that it does not go out on a sudden; if it is quenched, run to me with all speed or thou wilt have trouble.”

Boyislav promised to obey faithfully. When they came to White Island the road sank in the sea. Boyislav, leaving his horse before the gates of the city, hastened to the palace. The most luxuriant trees were growing all over the island, and beautiful flowers were in bloom; the city was splendid, the palace of silver and gold, but nowhere was a living creature to be seen. Boyislav moved on carefully through the empty streets as if afraid of waking some person. When he entered the palace he was amazed at its matchless beauty, but all was as nothing in comparison with the beauty of the princess who was sleeping on a dark purple couch in the last chamber. She was clothed in a light garment, white as new-fallen snow, her dark hair fell on her white, slightly moving bosom, her lips were half open, her teeth shone like pearls, and her whole figure was so full of charm that Boyislav held his breath. With head inclined, with crossed hands, he looked at her long,—forgot the horse, the taper, and the whole world, not thinking whether he was living; he only felt that the princess was beautiful. When he had waited a long time he remembered the taper, looked around the room, saw it on the table, and saw on two couches the king and queen. He stepped quickly to the table to quench the taper and rouse the princess, when all at once he heard the horse neigh so fiercely that the palace trembled to its foundation; his hand dropped of itself, and he muttered: “Thanks to thee, oh horse! Had I quenched the taper all would have risen, and who knows what might have come to me?”

He took the taper quickly and turned away, but when passing through the door he could not refrain from looking at the princess again; she seemed still more beautiful. He put the taper on the table, knelt and kissed her hand; with that her face became ruddy as a rose, and around her mouth appeared a smile. He sprang up; and as dark night had come, he thought of his return, seized the taper quickly, looked at the princess, wrote on the table, “Boyislav, youngest of twelve,” and went from the palace, taking care that the taper should not be quenched. He reached the gate of the city, but there the taper was blown out by the wind. That moment was heard in the city a shout, which grew louder the longer it lasted; but the trusty steed appeared and bore him in a flash to the shore of the sea.

“Throw in the last apple,” said the horse.

Boyislav obeyed without a murmur. That moment there rose from the waves a road which reached to firm land, and as dawn was appearing they came to the shore. Then the road sank in the sea.

“Now come down,” said the horse; “let me rest, and do thou rest, too.”

The horse went to the green meadow, and Boyislav lay on the grass and mused on the princess of White Island. Since he was wearied greatly, he fell asleep, but thought of the princess so that he sighed from sorrow when the horse roused him and said, “Let us go.”

Boyislav mounted in silence. They travelled till they saw the domes of a great city. “What city is this?” inquired Boyislav.

“Seest not,” asked the horse, “that is thy birthplace?”

“Sure enough! Go quickly, dear horse, that I may embrace my father.”

“Hurry not,” said the horse; “for it would be better for thee not to go.”

“Why?” asked Boyislav with wonder.

“Because thy father has uttered sentence of death against thee.”

“I do not believe that,” replied Boyislav, shaking his head; and the horse was silent.

Boyislav’s heart beat with joy when he entered the gates of his native place, but his joy was short-lived. He had scarcely passed one street when people began to gather around him, till at last an officer of the king’s army seized the bridle of his horse, and ordered the people who were standing around to seize his arms. All rushed like hungry birds of prey on the terrified Boyislav.

“What art thou doing!” cried he, when at length he recovered himself. “Do ye not know that I am your prince?”

“Prince or not,” cried all, “we know thee well enough to know that to-morrow thou wilt dance in the air.” They took the unfortunate Boyislav to the castle, where, by command of the king, he was cast into a dark dungeon, and his horse, which they all laughed at, was shut up in a pen. The officer who brought Boyislav to the palace got a great reward, and went in high glee to the nearest inn to drink with his comrades.

Why was the king enraged with his favorite son? Because shameless lies had been told by his other sons. When Boyislav brought the three princesses of Black Island to the boat and returned for his horse, his brothers weighed anchor at once and sailed off. On the way they forced the unfortunate princesses to promise on oath to tell the king that they were the liberators, and to say that Boyislav on Black Island had attached himself to a worthless woman, and made sport of his old father.

Meanwhile they agreed to cast lots for the princesses. When the brothers declared their wish, the princesses said that they would not break their oaths, but could never be the wives of such men. The brothers paid small heed to this, for their hearts were hard. They were satisfied with having got rid of Boyislav. They ordered the oarsmen to press on. As a favorable wind blew without stopping, they soon arrived safely on firm land, where they hired horses and hurried to their native place.

The king, who had recovered as soon as the princesses on Black Island were freed, welcomed his sons and the princesses with tears in his eyes. But how he flushed up with anger when they told the story to which they had been forced by oath! He ordered the death of Boyislav at once, and offered a great reward for his capture. The wicked brothers rubbed their hands with glee, but the princesses withdrew to the chambers given them by the king, and passed their time in silent grief.

The king was astonished at this, and wished to know what prince they loved; he would give his blessing at once, and the proper income. But the princesses only shook their heads, and the king asked his sons the reason of the princesses’ sorrow. The young men evaded the question, saying that perhaps the princesses were homesick. At last they led the conversation to Boyislav. The king flushed up with anger, which was all his sons wanted, so as to avoid speaking of the princesses of Black Island, for they knew nothing about them.

And now, when Boyislav was in prison, they continued to excite the king to give an order forbidding any one to ask mercy for him under pain of death. “Why should I endanger my life?” thought every one; “the king of course knows why he puts his son to death.” Many pitied the prince, but only one man shed tears. He was an old warrior who had once commanded the king’s armies, and was retained as a friend of the king; he did not believe that Boyislav deserved death, and resolved to ask pardon for him. “Well,” thought he, “I shall not live till spring, and it is all the same whether I die a day earlier or later. I have been in danger of death times without number and have never been even wounded; perhaps I shall escape now.”

He went bravely to the king, who greeted him very kindly, as was his wont. “What dost thou wish?” asked he of the old man, who was silent.

“I ask mercy for Boyislav,” said he.

“How darest thou slight my order?” asked the king, angrily. “Knowest not thou art doomed to death?”

“I know,” answered the old man with dignity; “but I fear not death. I mean to say that thou art disgracing thyself by giving thy own blood to the hangman.”

The king was struck with these words, and walked up and down the room with bowed head.

“Who knows whether Boyislav is really guilty or not?” said the old man, “for the conduct of the princesses from Black Island is strange.”

“Thou art right, and I will not give him to the hangman; but still he must die. I shall have him confined with the lions. Let them tear him.”

The old man made further effort, but the king would not be persuaded. When night came Boyislav was taken secretly from prison and shut in with the lions. But the brothers were not satisfied yet; they told the king that Boyislav could easily escape, and advised him to wall up the doors. The king consented, and the next day the doors were walled up, there remaining only a small opening on the other side. This was fortunate, for otherwise Boyislav must have perished for want of air. He looked at the lions without fear; they did not harm him. Then he took out the taper and the tablecloth, which he kept in his bosom, lighted the taper, laid the cloth on the ground, and asked for the choicest food; it appeared. He fed the lions first, then ate and drank himself. The lions lay at his feet in thankfulness; he lay on them and fell asleep. When awake he played with the lions,—who in a few days were tame,—or thought of the princess on White Island. In this way his days passed quickly, and before he knew it a whole year had gone.

Meanwhile the princess of White Island travelled over the world with an army in search of her liberator; she had already visited many kings, but in no royal family had she found twelve sons. At last she came to the dominions of the old king and learned that he had twelve sons. Her heart jumped for joy, and she marched night and day till she appeared before the capital. Straightway she sent messengers to the king, asking him to send her that prince who had freed her and her whole kingdom.

The king called the five princes who went with Boyislav, and asked if they had been on White Island.

“Of course!” answered the truthless princes; and the eldest one shamelessly added that he had freed its princess.

“Then hurry to her,” said the king. He went.

“Where is the taper?” asked the princess when he came; but he knew nothing of it. Thereupon the princess became so angry that she drew her sword and cut off his head with a blow.

Again she sent the messenger with the announcement that if her liberator were not sent, she would turn the city into dust and ashes.

“I freed her,” said the second prince to the frightened king.

“Then go to her.”

When she asked the second prince about the taper, he could give no answer, and lost his life. The messenger returned to the king, and told him what had happened to the two princes; the three remaining ones were so terrified that they confessed the truth.

The old man, Boyislav’s savior, now said to the king, “I told thee Boyislav was innocent; thou wouldst not believe me. Now see how thou hast saved thy city from destruction, for the princess will surely carry out her threat unless Boyislav is delivered up.”

“But how can I deliver him up when he is dead?” asked the king.

“He is not dead,” replied the old man, joyfully, “for there is still a little opening in the lions’ den, and there is light there night and day.”

The king sprang up joyfully, hastened to the den, and had the walled-up doors opened. Boyislav looked on this carelessly; and when the king implored him with tenderness to come out, that he forgave him all, he shook his head saying: “I will not go, it is good enough for me here.”

“But the princess will destroy my city,” said the king.

“What princess?” asked Boyislav with curiosity.

“The princess from White Island.”

In silence, but with gladness in his eyes, Boyislav quenched the taper, folded the tablecloth, and taking both with him walked out. When he went with the messenger to the princess, his heart beat with anxiety so that he could not raise his eyes when he stood before her.

“Thou art the man!” exclaimed the princess, joyfully. But when Boyislav knew not what to answer, she said reproachfully: “Has the ardor with which thou didst kiss me grown cold?”

“It has not,” murmured Boyislav, wishing to kiss the golden hem of her robe.

The princess raised him up, and kissing him, said: “This is the earnest of our betrothal.”

Boyislav was glad to respond; and now all returned to the castle, where feasting began, which was to be closed by the wedding of the princess and Boyislav. All were rejoiced except the princesses of Black Island, who were as sad as ever. The three princes who had gone to Black Island were in deathly terror. Boyislav in the middle of the feast grew sad, and when asked the reason, he inquired: “Where is my trusty horse?”

No one could answer him, till at last one of the servants remembered that the horse had been shut up in a pen. To the great astonishment of all, Boyislav ran out to him, fell upon his neck, and shed tears of joy.

“Thou hast done well to come,” said the horse, sadly, “or I should have perished with hunger; for the cord brought from Red Island is eaten. Every span of it became a bundle of hay. But now thou hast attained thy object, and I am needed no longer; cut off my head.”

“I cut off thy head!” exclaimed Boyislav.

“Then thou dost not wish to free me,” said the horse, with chiding voice.

Boyislav drew his sword and cut off the horse’s head at one blow. The horse disappeared in an instant, but in his stead appeared a beautiful prince, who fell on Boyislav’s neck and shed tears of joy.

“What is this?” asked Boyislav, full of astonishment.

“Come to supper,” said the prince; “I will explain it all.” Both hurried to supper; scarcely were they at the door, when the youngest princess from Black Island fell into his arms, and the other two pressed his hands. When they had recovered from the first surprise, the prince said: “I am the only son of a powerful king, whose dominions are not far from Black Island. I would not marry the daughter of a queen who was a witch, and she enchanted me; and the princesses of Black Island—the youngest of whom is my bride—were turned into horses twelve hours of each day. Boyislav freed the princesses first, and now has freed me. The moment I regained my form, the spell was removed from Black Island.”

All were delighted with Boyislav; but the king was thoughtful, and seemed to ponder over important things. At last he summoned the three princes who went with Boyislav to Black Island, and gave command to throw them to the lions; the lions tore them to pieces in an instant.

Now came new festivities; and when all was finished, Boyislav went with his wife to White Island; and the liberated prince, with his wife and sisters, went to Black Island, where they celebrated at once their wedding and their liberation.

[Go to notes]

THE TABLE, THE PACK, AND THE BAG.

BEFORE times long past, there lived in a little cottage an old father, with his three sons. The eldest son was called Martin; the second, Mihal; and the third, Yanek.

“Martin,” the father used to say often, as they were sitting in the evening at a bowl of skimmed milk, “I shall not be long alive; I feel it in my body. When I die, the cottage will come to thee; but do not cheat thy old mother and thy brothers.”

Martin always promised; but while the others were listening to their father, he looked sharply at the food, and picked out every piece of bread from the milk. Mihal saw this with astonishment; but Yanek was always grieved from his father’s talk, and did not even think of eating.

The father spoke the truth. In no long time he groaned his last; but when he saw his death-hour, he had all summoned for the parting. He reminded Martin again that he was never to let the cottage go out of his possession; and then turning to Yanek, whom he loved most, he said: “Yanichek, thou art simple, ’tis true; but what the Lord has kept from thee in wit, he has added in heart. Only be ever as kind as thou hast been, and obey thy brothers;” with that he coughed, and was no more.

Martin and Mihal gave themselves up to lamentation, but Yanek was silent; he stood by his father’s bedside as if without sense. Only after a long time did he go out, sit in the garden under a tree, and cry like a little child.

After the funeral, Martin and Mihal decided to go out in the world, and leave Yanek with his mother. “The world is wide,” said they; “there fortune may meet us quickly, while in this little cottage we should never come to anything as long as we lived.”

It was all one to Yanek; but his mother who was still in good strength, did not like to have Yanek lose his fortune, and talked with his brothers so long that they took him with them. This was not agreeable to Martin and Mihal, but they reverenced their mother, and obeyed her.

All three made ready; Martin and Mihal put food in bags for themselves, and went out into the world. On the road Yanek said to his brothers, “I shall be glad to see if that fortune meets us soon.”

“Thou mayest run to meet it,” snapped the brothers, “since thou hast nothing to carry.” They were angry that Yanek had taken nothing, while they must carry heavy bags on their backs.

They walked on a whole half-day; the sun was burning, and the brothers were tired and hungry. They sat down at the roadside under a tree, in the shade, took out provisions, and began to eat,—that is, Martin and Mihal; but Yanek sat by himself and began to cry, either because he remembered his father’s death or was hungry. His brothers ridiculed him and said: “See now, thou wilt not be so lazy another time, and then thou wilt not be hungry.”

Yanek brushed away his tears with his sleeve, and said: “Ye might have a little shame. Ye are going out into the world so as to be able to support your mother when ye go home; but now ye have taken from her everything!”

Such an answer the brothers did not expect from simple Yanek. They were silent; and after a while, as if moved from kindness, they asked Yanek to eat with them; but they did not do it from compassion or brotherly love, but to lessen their fault. When they had eaten, they rose and went on their way. In the evening they came to a cottage and asked for lodgings. The cottager took them under his roof, and asked them to sup. Martin thanked him with a certain boastfulness, saying that he had provisions enough of his own.

The man sat down to supper with his wife. Yanek sat with downcast face alone in a corner. The woman went to the kitchen, and when returning, saw that Yanek had nothing to eat. “Oh, little boy, come and eat with us!” said she kindly. Turning to Martin she asked if that was their servant.

“What servant!” said Martin. “He is our brother, but such a lazy fellow, he would not bring anything for himself.”

Yanek did not wish to go to the table, but consented at last. Martin squinted at the dish; and when he saw soup, he hated Yanek. Soup was his favorite dish, and now he must look on and see how Yanek enjoyed it, and must be satisfied with dry bread and a bit of cheese. Full of hatred he went to bed in the place which the cottager showed him, with his brothers. For a long time he lay awake, and when he fell asleep he saw in a dream, Yanek eating soup. In the morning the brothers rose before breakfast, because they wanted Yanek to have nothing to eat. Martin went through the nearest forest, hoping that they would find no house all day, and so Yanek would have no food.

The whole forenoon they walked through the thick forest, and Martin wished to eat his dinner; but the forest began to grow thin and soon they came to an open country. They looked for a road, went on a small hill, and then saw in the valley a great castle as high as ten houses placed one on the other. Yanek laughed, but Martin was not pleased: “We have lost the road,” said he; “we must go back.”

“But, foolish fellow,” said Mihal, who was tired, “we are going out in the world, what difference does it make; it is all the same whether we go one way or another.”

Without saying a word or looking at his brothers, Yanek went straight toward the castle. That started off Martin, and soon he caught up with Yanek. “Walk behind,” said he, “I’m the eldest; I must go ahead.”

They soon came to the castle, but did not see a living thing; they were greatly afraid. Martin wished to run away; but when he saw Yanek open the door, he followed him. They entered a splendid hall. How astonished were they! On the floor was a pile of copper money five ells high. Martin and Mihal, blinded by the glitter of the money, threw out their remaining provisions, filled their bags, and wanted to run away; but Yanek opened the next door, through which the brothers saw in another hall a still greater pile of money, but silver. They emptied their bags of the copper money with all speed, and filled them with silver. They had barely done this when Yanek opened a third door, and cried out with wonder,—a thing which he seldom did,—“Ai!” The brothers threw their bags on the floor, rushed to the door, but had to cover their eyes with their hands, for it was as bright as the sun in the next chamber. They saw this was gold. Still more quickly than before, they threw the silver out of their bags, and panting for breath, filled them with gold pieces.

“Now let us go,” cried Martin; “some one may come, and then we shall suffer.” They started from the castle as fast as they could. Yanek went too, and took as he was going only one piece of money from each heap, and in the third room the remnants of food which his brothers had thrown out. The brothers escaped with the money successfully, meeting no one. Yanek followed at his leisure, eating the provisions which his brothers had thrown away. When they came to the forest, the two brothers crawled into the thicket, threw their bags on the ground, and began to rest. Yanek also lay down after he had put the last bit of bread in his mouth. Here Martin remembered the provisions, but he had only ducats in his bag.

“Yanek,” said he, “run back to the castle and bring us from the first chamber the provisions which we forgot there.”

But Yanek answered bluntly, “I will not go.”

“Why not?” asked Martin in anger.

“Because they might catch me, and I should have to suffer instead of you; besides, there is no food there, for when you threw it away I picked it up and ate it.”

“Monster!” screamed Martin in rage, “I’ll teach thee to obey thy eldest brother. Mihal, give him here to me.”

Mihal did not wait to be spoken to twice. They took poor Yanek between them and put so many blows on him that he was soon lying as if dead on the ground; then they took their bags on their backs and hurried home through the woods.

“That lazy-bones!” growled Martin, “let him go wherever he likes; he will not dare to teach us again.” They got out of the forest quickly, and in the evening came to an inn where they refreshed themselves. Next morning they set out for home. In the neighboring town, where the king dwelt, they bought a house, brought their mother to it, and began to live like great lords.

Yanek, poor fellow, lay for a long time unconscious in the forest. At last he woke from his trance, rested his head against a tree, and fell to thinking of his condition. “Oh, cruel brothers, ye have left the forest! Who knows whether I shall find the way home? I am weak; I cannot walk far; I will go back to the castle, no matter what meets me; I will take money, too, and live like a lord.”

Many a one will wonder that Yanek changed all at once; but a beating has brought many a man to new ways. So Yanek made ready and went to the castle. In the castle there was not a living soul. Yanek took off his coat, tied the sleeves at the wrist, and began to rake gold into them. He had almost finished when he heard noises at a distance like bursts of thunder. These noises grew louder and louder till at last they were so loud that the castle trembled. All at once a voice as if a fifteen-year-old bull were bellowing, called, “Hu! hu! I smell the flesh of a man!” and before Yanek could gather his wits after the fright, he saw two giants standing at the door.

“Oh, worm of the earth, thou art the one who is stealing our treasures!” howled one of the giants. “Ha, thou wilt be a nice roast for supper,” added he, smacking his lips so that Yanek lost his senses. But the second giant whispered something in the ear of the first, who nodded, and said to Yanek: “Listen, worm of the earth, I grant thee life, but henceforth thou wilt watch our treasures when we are from home.”

Yanek wanted to kiss the giant’s hand, but he could barely reach to his knee. “Only watch well, worm of the earth,” said the giant, graciously; “but so that thou shouldst not be hungry, strike on this little table three times with thy fist and call, ‘Food for a king!’ and thou wilt have food to thy liking.”

Yanek promised everything, and from that time forth he led a very pleasant life,—he did nothing, no living soul ever came to the castle, the table was always obedient. But at last he grew tired of all this. “Watch your own treasures, lord giants,” said he one day when the giants had gone out; “and thou, my good little table, come!—we will go home.”

Yanek put the table on his back, stole away from the castle, and soon found himself in the forest. He strolled leisurely through the forest, and after no long time was in the open field. Here an old grandfather met him, and asked if he had not something to eat. “’Tis long since I have had a bit in my mouth,” lamented the grandfather.

“Then I will help thee,” said Yanek; “come with me to that tree over there.” They sat under the tree; Yanek put his table on the ground, and striking on it three times with his fist, said: “Food for a king!” The table was covered with the daintiest dishes.

The grandfather ate his fill, and said: “Indeed this is a very beautiful thing! But, my lad, if thou wouldst give me this little table, I would give thee something better in place of it. This pack has the virtue that at command an army will spring out of it as numerous as ever thou carest to wish.”

Yanek was greedy, but only from the time that he got a beating from his brothers; he took the pack, gave the grandfather the table, and they parted. But Yanek soon felt hungry; he was in the open field, and nowhere a house to be seen. Now he was angry at himself for having given away the table so frivolously; and besides he wished to know if what the grandfather said of the pack was true. He opened the pack and commanded “two hundred hussars to the field.” He had barely spoken when horses were neighing, arms rattling, and sooner than he could think, two hundred hussars stood in line before him. The officers saluted Yanek, and asked with respect what he wanted.

“About five thousand yards from here, under that tree, an old man took a table from me; ride after him, take the table, and bring it to me.”

He had barely finished speaking when the hussars rode off at a wild gallop, in no long time they returned, and their leader gave Yanek the table. Yanek opened his pack and said: “Two hundred hussars in here.” In a twinkle the hussars were in the pack, from the first man and horse to the last. “That is not a bad thing,” said Yanek to himself as he sat at the table, struck three times with his fist, and commanded, “Food for a king.”

When he had eaten to his content he took his table and his pack and went on. It was inclining toward evening, and Yanek had to look for a night’s lodging. But this made him small trouble; it was warm enough, he laid himself under a tree, put the pack under his head, held the table in his hand, and so fell asleep. Next morning he ate like a king and went on. This time he met a grandfather as he had the day before, and he too asked for food. Yanek commanded the table, and the grandfather ate his fill. “My lad,” said he, “here is a bag; give me thy table for it.”

“Oh, grandfather,” said Yanek, with a laugh, “nothing can come of that.”

“This is no laughing matter, my lad; the bag is worth getting, for it has this virtue,—that wherever and whenever thou hast the wish, thou canst call out of it as many castles as may please thee.”

Yanek fell to thinking, and then said with a smile, “Let it be so.”

The grandfather took the table, Yanek the bag; then they parted. But barely had the grandfather vanished from sight when Yanek opened the pack and commanded: “Three hundred Uhlans to the field!” Scarce had he spoken when three hundred Uhlans were standing in line before him. “Go now to the right on the road; at the ditch a man took my table: take that table and bring it to me.”

The Uhlans flashed away, and a man could scarcely have counted ten before Yanek had the table. Then he opened the pack and commanded: “Three hundred Uhlans this way!” and the Uhlans vanished in the pack. Yanek was beside himself with gladness when he took the table, the pack, and the bag, and continued his way.

In the evening he came to the capital town, and there he learned that his brothers had become great lords. He went before the town, tore his clothes purposely, then lay in the dust and rolled several times. He did this so that he might seem out and out ragged and poor. Then he went to his brothers and implored them to take pity on him. They would not even recognize him; but his mother fell on his neck and begged for him. The brothers gave way, and granted him lodging, but in the stable. Yanek was satisfied; he lay on the bed which was given him,—that is, a bundle of straw,—and waited till all were asleep. Then he sprang over the fence to the garden, opened the bag, and commanded: “One castle out of the bag!” and that moment there stood in the garden the most beautiful castle. Then he opened the pack and commanded: “Fifty infantry come out!” and fifty foot-soldiers stood before him.

“Ye,” said he to them, “will be all night on guard here in my castle; but when in the morning the cock crows the second time, rouse me.”

The warriors saluted and took their places on guard. Yanek took the table which he had secreted, as well as the pack and bag, and went into the castle. There he selected the most beautiful chamber, commanded the table, and supped. After supper he lay down and slept till the guards roused him. He rose, ate, and before any one was awake in the house of his brothers he commanded the warriors into the pack, the castle into the bag, then crawled over the fence, and lay on his straw in the stable. This he did night after night. But it was a wonder to his brothers how he was alive; for though they had two bags of ducats, they never gave him a morsel to eat. Therefore they pressed Yanek to tell them if he had gathered much coin in the castle; they thought he had money, but did not wish to show it before them.

“Simpleton! I was glad to get out of there alive; for that castle belongs to giants,” answered Yanek. “But I have something else, and it is better than your gold pieces.”

Then he brought the table, struck it three times with his fist, and said: “Food for a king!”

Martin and Mihal stood like apparitions, they could not believe their eyes; but when they began to eat they believed their tongues.

The story of the wonderful table was spread through the town, and soon came to the king. He was eager for the food of the table, and sent his chamberlain to Yanek to borrow the table for three days.

“Agreed,” said Yanek; “here it is. But if it is not returned to me at the end of three days I will declare war against the king.”

The chamberlain bowed, took the table, and told the king, with a smile, that Yanek would declare war against him unless the table was returned. The table pleased the king beyond measure, but still more the food; therefore he meditated how to deceive Yanek. He summoned all the joiners, carvers, and turners in the town, and ordered them to make exactly such a table as Yanek’s. They went to work, and before the third day had passed there were two tables, and the king himself could not tell which was the right one. Soon he made sure of it, and then he sent the counterfeit table by the chamberlain to Yanek.

Yanek struck the table three times with his fist and ordered: “Food for a king!” The table trembled, but nothing more. “Food for a king!” shouted Yanek, full of anger; but he soon discovered that the king had deceived him, and he pounded the table till he pounded it to pieces.

“Take this and carry it to the king,” said he to the chamberlain, “and tell him that I’ll smash down his castle to-morrow as I have broken this table!”

The chamberlain collected the fragments, took them to the king, and told him what Yanek had said. The king only smiled haughtily, and thought that he had finished with Yanek. In the night, however, he had wonderful dreams, and early next morning he ordered his army to be placed before the castle and be ready for battle.

Now Yanek came with his pack, counted the royal troops, and still once more asked the king to return his table; but the king only laughed. Then Yanek opened the pack and commanded: “A thousand times a thousand infantry out; a thousand times a thousand cavalry out.” From the pack there was the rush of an avalanche. Soon the whole country in front of the castle was filled with the finest of armies. The king and his troops were as if before a vision; but when Yanek raised his hand as a signal for attack, the king raised a white flag and went to Yanek.

“Thou seest,” said the king, almost imploringly, “I was mistaken; but I wish to correct my mistake. I will return the table, and besides I will give thee my daughter in marriage.”

“Then peace,” said Yanek. “But first bring thy princess; let me see her.”

The princess soon came with her ladies, raised her veil, and stood before Yanek.

“The wedding will be to-day!” ordered Yanek, and kissed the princess on the forehead. She was not angry; nay, it may be said she was glad. Then Yanek commanded: “A thousand times a thousand infantry in; a thousand times a thousand cavalry in,” and closed the pack.

The royal army withdrew to the fortress, and now quick preparations were made for the marriage. At midday Yanek and the princess belonged to each other. Then they feasted, and the table gave meat and drink till the evening.

When all were in bed Yanek went out to the king’s garden with his bag, opened it, and commanded: “Let the most beautiful castle that can be in the world come out of this bag!” And that was such a castle that Yanek himself was astonished.

Then he went to the old castle to the king, who had already prepared chambers to which he wished to conduct him and the princess; but Yanek answered that he had his own household, and the king had such faith in him that he believed. Yanek conducted his bride to the new castle, and she could not admire its splendor sufficiently.

In the morning people hurried to the king and told him that there was a new castle in the garden. The sun was just rising, and casting its rays on the castle, the castle was blazing with gold, silver, and precious stones. The king now respected Yanek still more, and gave him all that he could, even his kingdom.

So Yanek became king, and a great king who could give battle to the whole world. On the boundaries he put castles everywhere out of the bag, and from the pack he garrisoned them with troops. The table gave him the best of food; what more could he want?

He reigned long, and was a real father to his subjects. As a punishment to his brothers he did not let them come near him; but his mother he cared for so well that she reached a great age. In the most beautiful chamber of the castle, on a golden throne, were the pack and the bag, and near them the table.

When King Yanek died he was mourned by all; he left his children the mightiest kingdom on earth. His eldest son succeeded him; but accustomed to splendor and luxury, he did not govern the kingdom so well as his father. After his death it was still worse. The succeeding kings were ashamed of their peasant stock; and so that no man might discover the real foundation of their power and turn them into ridicule, they took the table, the pack, and the bag, and cast them into a dark, damp cellar.

And will ye ask what became of such a mighty kingdom? The table rotted, the bag rotted, the mice gnawed the pack; and then it was all over with that kingdom.

In after times, when he was in straits, the king ran to the cellar, struck on the table, looked for the pack and the bag. But the table fell to pieces at the first blow, of the pack there remained but a few little straps, and of the bag a few threads.

[Go to notes]

THE KING OF THE TOADS.

MANY and many a year ago there was a cottage by the sea, and in this cottage lived a fisherman who caught fish in the sea. By the king’s command he was allowed to take fish, not when he liked, but only once a week, and that on Mondays. He was anxious, therefore, to catch many on that day. Fish, of course, are not so crafty as men, but still they know enough to see that there is no fun in being caught. What is to be done with them afterwards they don’t know; still, they must suspect that it can hardly be for their amusement. It is no wonder then that they did not crowd into the fisherman’s net.

The fisherman worked every Monday till the sweat streamed down his face; and this all the more, since, come what might, he was obliged to bring fish to the king’s kitchen each Monday. Once he worked the whole forenoon without catching even a white fish. “I will try once more,” thought the tired fisherman; “I will throw everything into the water, and jump around to frighten the fish, they are so stubborn.”

He threw the net deeply, and when he pulled it was very heavy. “Now there will be fish,” thought he, joyfully; but what was his astonishment when, instead of fish, he drew out a great copper kettle.

The kettle was so well fastened that the fisherman had to work long before he could take off the cover. But how he was frightened! Scarcely had he removed the cover when out of the kettle rushed black smoke, which grew thicker and thicker, till at last it changed to a fiery man.

“Thou hast helped me, and I will help thee,” said he to the terrified fisherman; “but in my own way I will destroy thee.”

The fisherman lost his head, but soon recovering said: “Oh, I don’t care, I am already tired of this world; still thou must do something for me, since I freed thee. I can’t understand how thou wert able to live in such a small place, and under the water too, and then change so quickly.”

“I’ll show thee in a moment,” said the fiery man; and he began to turn into black smoke, and in no long time he was packed into the kettle again.

“Dost see me?” inquired he of the fisherman.

“I see thee,” answered the fisherman, laughing; “I see thee, but thou’lt not see me any more.”

The cover was already on the kettle and fastened firmly. The fiery man by no means expected to find such cunning among people, and considering his condition in the kettle, began to beg of the fisherman: “Let me out and I will reward thee.”

“Swear that thou wilt never destroy me,” said the fisherman.

The spirit answered with a solemn voice, “I swear.”

The fisherman removed the cover, and black smoke rolled out, growing thicker and thicker, till at last it turned into a fiery man.

“Follow me,” said he to the fisherman; and the latter followed without thinking.

In a short time they came to a high cliff in which steps were cut in the stone. The fiery man bent to the earth, plucked an herb, and giving it to the fisherman said: “Keep this with thee always. Put thy foot on this step; immediately after thou wilt be on a high mountain, from which thou wilt see a great lake. In the lake is a wealth of fish, and thou hast the right to catch as many of them as may please thee, but only once a week, on Mondays. When thou hast the wish to come down, climb to the top, and soon thou wilt be at the bottom.”

Thereupon the fiery man vanished, but the fisherman went on the steps cut in the rock; in one moment a mighty wind caught him, and in a twinkle he was on a high mountain, from which he saw an altogether unknown country covered with dark forests, in the midst of which was a broad lake; only here and there was a grass-plot to be seen, there were neither hills nor the dwellings of men.

The fisherman went down from the mountain, and when he had reached the lake he found a boat with all the fishing-tackle, as if made ready for him. He went to work willingly, threw in the net, and drew out nothing; he threw it in a second time, drew out as much as before. “That fiery man has fooled me,” thought he, “but the third throw is always the best.” He cast his net again and drew out three fish; when he saw them in the net, he said bitterly: “Well, this is a wealth of fish! If it goes on in this way I’ll soon leave the place; besides, I don’t like travelling by wind.” But when he looked at the fish more carefully, and took them in his hand, he found that in all his life he had never seen anything like them. “These are not for me,” muttered he, “I must give them to the king; he will soon try them.” With that he left the boat, went to the mountain, and had barely touched the summit when a mighty wind seized him, and placed him on level land. He set out for home, and it was time; for his wife had already cooked the dinner and was waiting. As soon as he saw her before the door, he hurried his steps; and when she was in the cottage he began to run. And why did he run, because he feared her? Not at all. He cared nothing for her, as he said himself; but he loved domestic peace, and did everything his wife wanted, but always did it in such fashion that she might not know what he was doing; this was to preserve his own importance in her eyes. He went into the house slowly, and said at the door: “Well, my dear, I have caught a few fish to-day; but I had much trouble, or I should have been home long ago.”

“Time for thee,” snapped his wife; “if thou art late again I’ll eat alone, leave nothing, and thou wilt find out that I am not thy slave to wait and suffer hunger.”

“Oh well, things are not so bad to-day,” said the fisherman; “better come and see these wonderful fish.”

“They are just like any other fish,” cried the woman, “only they look a little different, that’s all.”

“And for that very reason thou wilt take them to the king. He will pay us well for them; we should not be able to use them.”

“Oh, thou couldst soon do away with them,” replied his wife, “but that’s why I’ll take them to the king; besides, we are up to our ears in fish.”

After dinner the fisherman’s wife hurried to the king with the fish. When she came to the palace, she asked the first man she met where the king was, but got as answer: “I don’t keep the king!” She went farther, making confusion everywhere until all the servants came together, but no one said anything to her. At last she reached the guard who stood before the king’s chamber; she wanted to go without ceremony to his Kingly Grace. The guard pushed her back sharply, but the fishwoman did not retreat so easily; she tried once more to break through the guards, but this time she was repulsed. One of the guards, as firm as a rock, and with as much hair on his face as a bear, caught her by the hand and pulled her so roughly that she almost fell to the floor. She screamed that they were killing her, and roused the whole palace; even the king came. She turned straight to him and cried out over the heads of the men: “Royal Grace, I am bringing fish, and these bears won’t let me in.”

The king, who was in good humor that day, beckoned her to come. “What kind of fish, and how many?” asked he when she approached.

“Royal Grace, only three, but so wonderful that I have not seen such as long as I live.” With that she took a fish from the basket and handed it to the king.

“Wonderful, indeed,” said the king, “but give them not to me, give them to my cook; and here is to thee for the road,” giving her a handful of goldpieces.

The fishwoman, when she saw so much money, fell at the king’s feet, and came near throwing him down; but he didn’t mind. Then she took the fish to the kitchen, and ran headlong home.

After she had gone the king went to the kitchen, looked at one of the fish, and said to the cook: “Thou must dress these fish in a special manner, and answer with thy head for the cooking.”

“Royal Grace, in what manner?” asked the cook, trembling with terror when he heard of his head; for though he was a great hero at cutting off heads, he trembled like an aspen when his own head was in question.

“That’s thy affair,” replied the king; “I will send my chamberlain to thee to look after the fish.”

The king went away, and presently the chamberlain appeared. The cook did not know how to prepare the fish, and lost his wits,—but that was his luck, for he did everything without knowing it, and altogether different from his wont. At last when they had the fish on the pan, and began to butter them, the whole palace trembled. Then followed a terrible shock; and before the cook or the chamberlain could think what it meant, they received each such a slap on the face from an invisible hand that they fell senseless to the floor. And while they were lying in such concord on the floor, they knew not that one of the fish stood on his tail in the pan, and said to the other two: “Will ye serve me or be food for the king?”

“Serve thee,” said both in one voice. With that all three of them vanished, and to this day no man knows whither they went.

The cook woke up from his involuntary slumber sooner than the chamberlain; he did not rise, however, but waited for the other. Then he rose, groaned heavily, complained, and both hurried to the fish; but they were gone. “The devil take the fish!” said the cook; “but what will the king say?”

It was no great joy for the chamberlain that the fish were gone; still he went to the king and told him of all that had happened in the kitchen.

“I cannot believe it,” said the king; “but if thou canst get more fish like these, thou wilt be forgiven this time. Now go to the fisherman and tell him to get other fish like these.”

The chamberlain hurried away with light heart, rejoiced at his easy escape. The fisherman said that he could catch fish only on Mondays. The chamberlain told this to the king; the king was very angry. But what could he gain by that?

There was joy in the fisherman’s cottage by reason of so much money, and the fisherman’s wife could hardly wait till Monday. She roused her husband early Monday morning, got him a holiday breakfast, and almost pushed him out of the house, so as to bring those strange fish with all speed. The fisherman obeyed, not his wife, however, but the king, and hastened to the cliff with the wonderful herb in his bosom. He had barely stood on the step, when he was carried to the mountain; and from there he rushed to the lake, where he found a boat waiting for him as before. The first and second time he caught nothing; but the third time he drew out three fish. “Now my wife will be glad,” thought he, and hurried up the mountain; from there he was taken to the valley in an instant, and ran home. His wife pulled the fish out of his hands, threw them into a basket, and ran to the king’s palace. The guard was ordered to let her pass; and she went straight to the king, who came out to meet her, and looking at the fish, to see if they were the same, gave her another handful of gold for her trouble. The fishwoman thanked him, took the fish to the kitchen, and went home leisurely, for she counted the money to see if there was the same as before; there was still more. Now there was joy in the cottage; and the fisherman was thankful in his heart to the fiery man, by whose action he had gained such peace in his household.

New orders were issued by the king to the cook, who was trembling with terror, thinking what would come of the fish. But the king, who did not believe even the chamberlain, sent his eldest son to watch both the chamberlain and the cook, lest they should eat the fish themselves. They all stood in great expectation around the pan in which the butter was melting under the fish; but as soon as they began to butter the fish, the castle was shaken more violently than before, a still louder shock followed, and the cook, chamberlain, and even the prince himself, received such slaps from an unseen hand that all three fell senseless to the floor. And while they were lying there, they did not know that one of the fish stood on its tail in the pan, and said to the other two: “Will ye be food for the king, or serve me?”

“Serve thee,” answered the two in one voice; then all three vanished in an instant, and to this day no man knows whither.

The cook came to his senses first; but seeing the chamberlain and the prince still on the floor, he stayed where he was. The chamberlain followed his example; at last the prince jumped up and roused both. For a while they acted as if they had lost their wits, then rose to their feet slowly, and complained. When they looked in the pan they found it empty. The prince told all carefully to his father. The king was raging, and threatened them all with death. At last he was pacified, and sent the prince to the fisherman. The prince gave the king’s order, but the fisherman said that he could catch those fish only on Mondays. When the king heard this he fell into a towering passion, though he knew himself that the fish could be caught only on Mondays. At last he grew calm, but resolved to be present next time they cooked these most wonderful fish.

On Monday the fisherman’s wife pushed her husband out of the house at the dawn of day. The fisherman came to the top of the mountain as before, then hastened to the lake, where on the third cast of the net he drew out three fish. He hurried to the top of the mountain; next moment he was in the valley, and ran home as fast as his breath would let him. His wife shortened the journey for him: she ran to meet him, and pulling the fish out of his hands, rushed off to the palace like a crazy woman. The king was waiting; and ran out the moment he saw her. When he looked at the fish he gave her two handfuls of gold. She took the fish to the kitchen, and hurried away. When she came to the field she sat down and counted the money ten times.

In the king’s kitchen the king, the prince, and the chamberlain watched the cook while he was preparing the fish. Because the king was present, great attention was paid to everything. This was done partly to make the king tired of being there; but he gave them to understand that he would wait till the fish were ready. After long preparation they got them on the pan; but as soon as the cook began to butter them the palace shook as in a tempest. Then came a shock as from a lightning-stroke, and in an instant all present received such slaps on the face that they fell senseless to the floor. While lying there without distinction of persons none of them knew, not even the king, that one of the fish stood on its tail in the pan and said to the other two: “Will ye serve me or be food for the king?”

“Serve thee!” answered both in one voice; and all three vanished.

After a long time the cook woke from his trance, and seeing the king prostrate, remained as he was. In like manner acted the chamberlain and the prince when they recovered. At last the king rose, walked around the pan quickly, saw no fish, wondered greatly, and went to his chambers in silence. When the king had gone, the prince, the chamberlain, and the cook sprang from the floor and shook themselves.

The king pondered long over these fish, weighed everything duly, and then sent for the fisherman. The fisherman came straightway; but how he wondered when he heard what had happened at the buttering of the fish! The king said: “Take me to that lake; I will examine everything carefully myself.” The fisherman of course consented. The king took his body-guard, and all moved toward the cliff, with the fisherman at the head. When they arrived there the fisherman gave the king some of the herb which he had received from the fiery man, took him by the hand, and stood on the stone step. In an instant a mighty wind seized them; the king and the fisherman flew through the air, but the body-guard stood, as if fallen from heaven. They waited long; but when nothing came of it, they returned to the palace, and told the terrified people what they had seen.

In due time the king with the fisherman appeared on the summit of the mountain, from whence he saw the whole country. Although there was no palace, nor even a cottage, still it pleased him greatly at first sight.

“There,” said the fisherman to the king, “is the lake where I catch the wonderful fish; I haven’t gone farther yet in any direction.”

“Very well,” said the king, “let us go down.”

On reaching the lake the king told the fisherman to catch the fish; but he went on himself to examine the place. The farther he went the thicker the grass, till at last he had hard work to get through; still he advanced till he came to a beautiful green meadow, having on one side the forest, and on the other the lake. Near the shore in a boat sat an old grandfather, whose head was as white as an apple-tree in blossom.

“Wilt thou row me over, grandfather?” asked the king.

“Why should I not, since that is what I am here for?”

The king took a seat in the boat. The old man rowed without hurrying; but the boat moved lightly over the smooth water, like a fly through the blue sky. When they reached the middle of the lake the old man turned to one side. Then the king saw a grand castle half hidden in the dark forest.

“Oh, what a beautiful castle! Who reigns there?” asked the king.

“Thou wilt learn if thou enter,” replied the old man. When they touched the shore he gave the king a green twig, and said: “Take this twig; it will be of use to thee. Good-by, for thou wilt not see me again.”

“But who will take me back?”

“No one. Thou wilt go back on dry land;” and turning aside, he disappeared.

The king went straight to the palace; and if he wondered at the words of the old man, he was still more astonished when he entered the principal gate and saw no living soul. Thoughtfully he ascended the broad steps, went through one chamber, then another, a third, and a fourth; but nowhere did he find a living creature. “This is some enchanted castle,” thought the king to himself. “Who knows how I shall escape? But I will see all, and then find the way home.” He examined the chambers further till he came to the last, and there in the middle of the room sat an old man, bent to the floor. “I said this was an enchanted castle,” thought the king; “here sits one man!”

The old man raised his head, and seeing the king, said: “Welcome; at last I see a human face!”

The king approached him and asked: “Who art thou, and what does this empty palace mean?”

“I am a king, but without subjects or power; another rules in my place,” answered the old man, bitterly.

“What is the cause of this?”

“The treason of my own wife.”

“And is there no rescue?”

“Well, the same as none; therefore be off at once, otherwise my wife will kill thee when she returns from the King of the Toads.”

“I am not afraid of a woman,” said the king. “I want to stand before her; we shall see if there is no escape.”

“If there were escape I should not be sitting here confined by the King of the Toads!”

“Who is this King of the Toads?”

“Listen; I will tell thee my whole sad story. The sun is yet high, and until it sets my wife will not return: Once I ruled over a powerful nation; around my palace was a great city, and near it a beautiful garden. All is changed into a dark forest and a lake. The fish in the lake are my former subjects. I was once happy, and the more so because I obtained as wife a beautiful and kind princess; but the King of the Toads got into the place where the lake now is, and he turned my wife’s heart from me. I remonstrated, begged, threatened my wife with death, but in vain. Every day she went to meet the King of the Toads, and listened to his wheedling speech. Once I came upon them in the summer-house, and heard with my own ears their whispering and kissing. At last the King of the Toads said: ‘I will find the nest of the magic bird, will take its eggs, and give them thee to eat; thou wilt become immortal and ever young; then we shall be altogether happy.’ ‘Deceitful serpent!’ I cried, springing from my hiding-place; and with a sharp sword I cut the King of the Toads in two. My wife fell upon him, weeping, and he grew together again. Looking at me with venomous eye he muttered words I could not understand, and that moment I felt my blood grow cold, and my veins stiffened so that I could not think of further struggle. I came home in misery and sat down on this chair to rest; but the King of the Toads froze me to my seat, and laid a spell upon the land. From that time I sit here, I know not how many years. My wife spends every day with her lover, and catches frogs for him out of the lake; in return, he promises her immortality and eternal youth. Now, thou canst see there is no aid for me; but escape thou before my wife kills thee.”

“I will not flee,” said the king, and drew his sword. “I’ll cut off her head,—the traitorous soul!”

“Foolish man,” said the old king; “the King of the Toads saves her, and will not let her be hurt.”

“Let him guard her; I must avenge thee,” answered the king, and sat on a chair waiting for the deceitful queen, paying no attention to the old man, who begged him by everything in the world to escape.

As the sun was going down the queen came, and was not a little astonished when she saw the stately knight with her husband. The king drew his sword and ran towards her, but the moment the sword touched her clothing it broke in two. It would have been bad for the king now, if he had not remembered the twig which the boatman gave him. He pulled it out quickly, and struck the queen three times. The third time he struck she dropped on a seat, and was unable to move an eye.

“Sit there, like thy husband,” said the king, mockingly, and counselled with the old man what to do further.

“It would be better,” said the old man, who gained courage when he saw his wife frozen to the chair, “to persuade the King of the Toads to free the kingdom and me from enchantment.”

“I will try,” answered the king; and going to the adjoining chamber, where the queen’s wardrobe was, he dressed in her garments and came back to the old man. “Now I will go to the King of the Toads and pretend to be his love, thy virtuous wife. Then I will beg him; and if he does not do what I want, I’ll freeze him with this twig, and stroke him with my sword till his heart softens.”

“But beg of him first,” said the old man.

The king made his way in silence to the King of the Toads; but as it was night he could not find him, and was obliged to call out. He changed his voice, which deceived the King of the Toads, who came quickly and wished to embrace him, thinking that he was the queen.

“No, my dear,” said the king; “first thou must do something to please me. What good is it for us to live together if my former husband is troubling me? Either kill him altogether or give him back his former condition, so that he may die; if thou wilt take the spell from him, he will fall to dust and ashes.”

“Let it be as thou wishest,” said he, drawing nearer.

But she moved away, and said: “I have one more favor to ask, but this concerns us alone. As soon as my former husband dies thou wilt take his place and we shall reign together, but what sort of a reign would it be if the whole country were enchanted; therefore give back its former shape to the kingdom, and I will marry thee before the world.”

“So let it be,” replied the King of the Toads, and embraced his supposed love, who refused no longer. Scarcely had he touched her when he was struck three times with the twig, in the dark night, and the King of the Toads was frozen to the earth.

“Serpent of hell!” cried the king with his powerful voice, “now I’ll enchant thee for the eternal ages;” and with that he drew out his sword and cut him into countless pieces, which he threw into the water. Frogs rushed from every side with a terrible croaking, and greedily swallowed the bits of the body of their destroyer.

They had barely devoured him when the water began to run out of the lake; and the king saw by the light of the moon which had risen over the mountain summit, how the tree-tops were rising quickly from the water, higher and higher till the water disappeared altogether, and in the place of the lake was a splendid park, in which were multitudes of people who, praising the king, hurried to the castle. The king joined them, but before reaching the castle he had to pass through a large city; and only after travelling many streets did he arrive there. All the chambers were lighted up, and full of people, so that with difficulty did he find the old man, who was standing in the last chamber, and preventing the people from hewing the queen to pieces; but the king drew his sword and cut off her head. “She deserved it,” said he to the old man, who dropped a few tears for his former wife.

Now universal rejoicings began, but the liberated king took no part in them. He called his deliverer and said: “My hours are numbered, I give the whole kingdom to thee; rule in my place.”

The new king thanked the old one kindly, and when he rose in the morning, he heard that the old king was dead.

Our king mounted a fiery steed, rode to the city, and announced to the people the death and last will of their former ruler. They grieved for a moment, then with shouts of gladness greeted the new king.

After the burial of the old monarch, his successor examined the kingdom; and as everything pleased him greatly, he decided to stay there. Therefore he went to his former palace, but the road was far longer than when he had travelled it with the fisherman. He was obliged to ride several weeks before arriving there. No one knew him, for several years had passed while he was in the enchanted kingdom. At last an old grandfather came, who said: “I am one of the body-guard who went with thee to the cliff where thou didst leave us. Take me, I beg, into thy service again, for all my comrades are dead; I am alone.”

The people believed quickly the grandfather’s words, gathered around the king and kissed the hem of his garment. The king sold his castle, put everything he could into wagons, and made ready for the road. Now he remembered the fisherman, asked how he was getting on, and when he had returned home.

“Only yesterday,” was the reply.

“Send for him,” commanded the king; and straightway the fisherman was there.

When the king asked about his adventures, the fisherman answered: “Royal Grace, I have no fish, and God alone knows what happened in that place. All at once the water disappeared under my boat and I was on dry land. I left everything and ran away; but trees began to grow under me, and so quickly that every second branches struck my face. Since it was in the night I might have lost my senses. In the morning I wondered when I saw instead of a forest an enormous city, with a great palace. I hurried from that magic country, thinking to see my cottage soon; but I travelled one day, I travelled two, a week, a month, and then a year—no sign of my cottage. I gave up for a time, and only yesterday I came home safely. My wife was dead; I am all alone now in this wide world.”

“Do not cry,” said the king; “thou hast me yet. Thou wilt stay with me.”

The fisherman answered with tears, and all started off on their journey. They arrived safely at the new kingdom; and all lived happily till they died.

[Go to notes]

THE MOUSE-HOLE, AND THE UNDERGROUND KINGDOM.

BEFORE times long past there reigned a king somewhere, and he had three sons. When they had grown up, and were trained as befits princes, they came one day to their father and said: “Our kingly father, permit us to visit strange lands, since we know our own country well.”

“Yes, it is proper,” answered the king, wisely, “for royal princes to know more than any of my subjects; and I permit what ye ask, but on one condition. Ye are all of an age in which almost every man seeks the partner of his life; and as far as I know, ye also will do the same. I have no wish to tell you what princesses to fall in love with, but I ask this: Return before a year and a day, and bring me some gift—not costly, but valued—from your chosen ones.”

The princes were astonished that their father had guessed their thoughts so well, and agreed without thinking. Then they took their crossbows and went to the open field. The eldest son let the bow-string go, and the arrow flew to the east. The second let the string go, and the arrow flew to the west.

“And where am I to aim?” cried the youngest, whose name was Yarmil. That moment a mouse ran near him to its hole; he let the string go, and the arrow flew after the mouse.

“Oh, thoughtless fellow!” said the eldest prince in rebuke; “now thou must go to the mouse-hole.”

“It is settled,” answered Yarmil, and shrugged his shoulders.

They went home, prepared for the road, and next day started; the eldest to the east, the second to the west, and Yarmil to the mouse-hole. Up to that moment he had held it merely a jest; but how was he astonished when on nearing the place the earth opened so that he rode in conveniently, and sooner than he could think was in an open country, in the middle of which stood a white marble castle. Nowhere did he see a living soul; and he felt sure then that he would find no one in the castle; but scarcely had he entered the gate when a lady came forth to meet him who had not only garments, but face, hair, eyes, in short everything, white as newly fallen snow. She held by the bridle a mettlesome white steed, and without saying a word, indicated to Yarmil to descend from his own horse and sit on the white one; but he had barely mounted the white steed when it rose with him through the air, and without heeding the bit, went on till it brought him to the earth before a splendid castle. Yarmil marvelled, for the castle was so brilliant that he could not look at it, such was the glitter of gold and precious stones. Around about, wherever the eye could see, was a beautiful garden, in which the most luxuriant trees were growing, the most beautiful flowers were in bloom, and birds of every color were singing.

When he had recovered from the first surprise, Yarmil dismounted and wished to lead the steed to the castle; but it tore away, rose through the air, and vanished like a white dove in the clouds.

Full of expectation Yarmil entered the castle. He struck on the gate; no answer, but it opened of itself. He went in on broad marble steps to the door of the first chamber. Again he knocked; no answer, but the door opened. He entered, but how did he wonder again! There was such splendor that he exclaimed, “My father is by far the richest king, but this chamber alone is worth more than his kingdom.”

But if the first chamber was rich, the second was richer; and that splendor increased till he came to the eleventh, where there was a great crystal tub with golden hoops, into which, through a golden pipe, water still clearer than crystal was flowing. In the twelfth chamber were only four naked walls, an ordinary ceiling, and a common floor, but in the middle of the floor a diamond pan. When Yarmil examined more carefully, he saw written on it: “Whoever wishes to liberate me must carry me next to his body, and bathe me each day.”

Urged by curiosity Yarmil removed a diamond, then a golden, and finally, with great effort, a silver, cover. But how was he frightened when under it appeared a great ugly toad! He wished to escape, but at that moment such terror seized him that in spite of himself he took the toad out of the pan and put it in his bosom. The toad chilled him, but in a moment he was as happy as if he had liberated some one from death. Straightway he went to the eleventh chamber, took the toad from his bosom, and washed it carefully; but to his great affliction he saw that it was a toad, and the more he washed the uglier it grew. When he had grown tired he put it in his bosom again and went to the garden to cheer himself.

A sight of the trees and the flowers hitherto unnoticed, the odor of them, and the singing of the birds entertained him so that midday came before he knew it. He went back to the castle, and there, to his great surprise, saw in the first chamber a table covered with the most delicate dishes. He sat down with appetite, and when he had eaten to his content, and drunk of the wine which an unseen hand had placed before him in a golden goblet, he confessed that he had never tasted at his father’s table, or at the greatest festivals, such delicate dishes and such good wine.

Now he looked the room through with more care; the splendor did not charm him so much as at first, but the many musical instruments, writing implements, and beautiful books pleased him beyond measure, for he was skilled in every good art.

After the supper, which was as good as the dinner, he lay on a soft bed and slept soundly till morning; then he ate a good meal, which was on the table, and spent the time as he had the day before. He was annoyed at his lonely life, but he soon drove away trouble. He was grieved because the more the toad was washed the uglier it grew; still he washed it with care, and carried it in his bosom.

Now the year was nearing its end, when he had to return to his father with a gift from his bride. He walked like one deprived of reason through the castle and the garden; nothing could comfort him, but still he did not forget to bathe the toad each day, and with greater care. When the last day of the year had come, he knew not what to begin; but while walking through the room he saw on his writing-table a sheet of paper not there before. He seized it quickly; and on it was written in black letters:

Dear Yarmil,—I love thee unspeakably; but be thou patient, as I am patient. A gift for thy father thou hast in the pan; give it to him, but tarry not long at home. Put me back in the pan.

Yarmil hastened with joy to the twelfth chamber, took from the pan a rich casket set with diamonds, and put the toad in the pan; then he ran out quickly, mounted the white steed which was waiting, and which rose in the air and flew regardless of bit, till it stopped before the white castle; there the white lady gave Yarmil his horse, took the white steed, and led it away.

In a short time Yarmil came to the great gate, and when he had ridden through and looked, there was nothing behind but a mouse-hole. Putting spurs to his horse he rushed on at a gallop and came to the gate of his father’s castle almost at the same moment as his brothers, so that all three were able to appear together before their father, and say: “Here we are, according to thy command.”

“But have ye brought gifts from your princesses?” asked the king.

“Of course,” cried the elder brothers, proudly. Yarmil answered, as it were, timidly, with a nod; for he knew not what was in that casket taken from the pan.

The king had invited a great number of guests to look at the gifts. All were in the banqueting-hall. The king led his sons thither, and when the feast was ended, he said to the eldest: “Now give me the gift from thy princess.”

“My love is the daughter of a great king,” said the prince, proudly; and he gave his father a casket containing a small mirror.

The king looked, and wondered not a little that he saw his whole person. Then he said: “Well, men’s hands can do everything.”

The second son gave him a still smaller mirror, but the king saw in it his whole person; still he only said: “Men’s hands can do everything. But what has thy princess sent me?” asked he of Yarmil. In silence, and timidly, Yarmil gave him the casket. The king barely looked in it when he cried in amazement, “That princess of thine has wealth in abundance; these diamonds alone have more value than my kingdom.” But he wondered when he took from the casket another such mirror, but smaller; and he was really frightened when in a twinkle a puppet sprang out and held the glass for him as soon as he looked at it, and the moment he stopped looking the puppet was gone.

“Oh,” cried the king, “no hand of man could frame that;” and embracing Yarmil, he added with tenderness: “Thou hast brought me true joy, my son.”

Yarmil called to mind the ugly toad, and had no regret now that he had spent a whole year with it; but his brothers and his mother, who was a witch and hated Yarmil, were enraged though they dissembled.

When the feast was over and the princes were parting with their father, he said: “Go now with rejoicing, but return in a year and a day, and bring me portraits of your princesses.”

The elder brothers promised with joy, but Yarmil barely nodded, for he feared what his father would say should he bring the toad’s portrait; still he went with his brothers beyond the town, where he parted with them, and galloped on to the mouse-hole. He was just drawing near when the ground opened to give a good entrance. At the white castle the white lady took his horse and gave him the white steed, which rose through the air, and regardless of bit, flew on till it reached the golden castle. Yarmil hurried to the twelfth chamber; the steed disappeared like a dove in the clouds.

In the castle nothing was changed, and the diamond pan was standing in the twelfth chamber. Yarmil removed the three covers, took out the toad and placed it in his bosom. Now he bathed it twice each day, but to his grief it grew uglier. How could he take the portrait of his princess to his father! He might paint the most beautiful lady, because he was very well skilled in painting, but he would not deceive his father. Only the hope that the toad would help him as before gave him strength to endure the dreary life.

At last the day was near in which he must return to his father. He looked continually on his writing-table till he saw to his great joy a sheet of paper on which was written in silver letters,—

Dear Yarmil,—I love thee unspeakably; be patient, as I am patient. Thou hast my portrait in the pan; give it to thy father, but tarry not long. Put me back in the pan.

Yarmil hastened to the twelfth chamber, found in the pan a casket still richer than the first. He took it quickly, and put the toad in its place. Then he hurried forth, sat on the white steed, which brought him to the white castle, where the white lady gave him his own horse. When he had ridden through the gate and looked back, he saw nothing behind but a mouse-hole. He put spurs to his horse, and rode to the gate of his father’s castle at the same time with his brothers. They stood before their father and said: “Here we are, as thou hast commanded.”

“Do ye bring me portraits of your princesses?” asked the king.

“Of course!” exclaimed the two elder brothers, full of pride. But Yarmil only answered with a nod, for he knew not what portrait the casket contained.

The king led them to the banqueting-hall, where the guests were assembled. When the banquet was over, he said to the eldest: “Now show me the portrait of thy princess.”

The eldest brother gave a rich casket to his father. He opened it, took out a portrait, and looking at it from every side, said at last: “That is a beautiful lady; she pleases me. Still there are fairer than she in the world, but any man might love her.” Then he gave the portrait to the guests, and said to his second son: “And the portrait of thy princess?”

The second son gave him promptly a richer casket, and smiled with happiness. He thought doubtless that his father must be astonished at the beauty of his princess; but he looked on her with indifference and said: “A beautiful lady too, but there are more beautiful in the world; still any man might fall in love with her.”

Then he nodded to Yarmil, who gave with trembling hand his diamond casket. Scarcely had the king looked at it when he exclaimed: “Thy princess must be rich beyond measure; thy casket is at any time worth twice my whole kingdom.” But how was he astonished when he took out the portrait! He looked fixedly at it for a while, unable to utter a word. Then he said with the greatest enthusiasm, “No; such a lady cannot be found in the world.”

All the guests crowded around the portrait, and in one voice agreed with the king. At last Yarmil drew near to look at his princess, unknown till that moment. Now he regretted no whit that he had spent two years in lone life and nursing a toad; but his brothers and his mother were raging, and envied him his princess.

Next day the princes were taking farewell, and the king said to them: “After this time I will not let you go again. In a year and a day I wish to see your princesses; then we will celebrate the weddings.”

The two elder brothers were shouting with joy, but Yarmil answered no word. They took leave of their father and went together to the edge of the town, where they separated; the eldest went to the east, the second to the west, but Yarmil to the mouse-hole, which opened quickly to give him a convenient passage. At the white castle the white lady gave him the white steed, which flew to the golden castle regardless of bit. There Yarmil descended, and the steed vanished like a dove in the clouds.

Full of hope Yarmil hastened to the twelfth chamber, for he trusted to find there his wondrous fair princess whose portrait he had taken to his father; but he found in the pan the ugly toad, which he put in his bosom, and now washed three times each day. In vain was all his labor, for the more he bathed the uglier grew the toad. Had it not been for the portrait he would have fled from the castle, and who knows what he might have done? Every day his strength decreased, and when the last day of the year drew near it is a wonder that he did not despair; for the toad had become now not only ugly beyond measure, but all mangy, so that he shivered when he looked at it. And now he must bring this to his father as his chosen one.

“My father will kill me!” cried he with grief, and threw himself on the couch. He thought what to do, but could come to no resolve. At last he reached to his bosom to look once more at the toad, hoping that at sight of it a happy thought might come; but a new surprise,—the toad was gone. Now he began to lament. He ran through the whole castle, searched every room, in the garden every tree and bush, but no trace of the toad.

At last he remembered the dish in the twelfth chamber, ran thither, but stopped on the threshold as if thunderstruck; for that poor chamber had become a real paradise, and in the middle of it stood a lady as beautiful, if not still more beautiful, than the portrait which he had carried to his father. In speechless amazement he looked at her, and who knows how long he might have stood there had she not turned to him and said: “My dear, thou hast suffered much; but I am not yet entirely free, and my people are not. Hurry now to the cellar; here is the key, and do to a hair what I command, or it will go ill with us. When the door is opened, thou wilt hear a terrible wailing; but listen to nothing, and speak not a word. Go down on the steps; below thou wilt find on a table twelve burning tapers, and before each taper one shirt. Roll up the shirts, quench the tapers, bring them all with thee.”

Yarmil took the key. When he opened the door of the cellar he heard such wailing that it is a wonder his heart did not break; but mindful of what had been said by his bride, he went boldly, descended the steps, rolled up the twelve shirts, quenching at each one, one taper; then he took the shirts and the tapers and hurried back. But how did he wonder when he saw a man nailed to the door by his tongue! The man begged Yarmil by all things to set him free, so that there was a strange feeling in Yarmil’s heart; but after short hesitation he mastered this feeling, and shut the door.

When he came to his bride and gave her the shirts, with the tapers, she said: “These twelve shirts are my twelve skins, in which I was a toad; and these twelve tapers burned me continually. Now I am liberated, it is true; but it will be three years before I shall be completely free. Know that I am the daughter of a mighty king, whom that foul monster, who is nailed to the cellar door by the tongue, changed into a toad because I refused him my hand. He is a wizard; but there is a witch more powerful than he. To punish him, she nailed him to that door; I, too, am still in her power. Now promise that for three years thou wilt tell no living person into what creature I was enchanted; but especially tell not how many skins I had.”

“Not even to my own mother!” exclaimed Yarmil, with excitement.

“It is just from thy own mother that thou must hide it most, for she is a witch, and hates thee; she knows long since that thou art three years with me, and most carefully will she try to learn from thee just what I have forbidden thee to tell.”

Yarmil was greatly grieved, but the princess soon cheered him, especially when she said: “It is now high time to go, so as to come to thy father’s at the right moment.” Then she took him by the hand, and led him down the stairs. In front of the castle a carriage with four white horses was waiting; when they entered, the horses rushed off with such speed that soon they passed the white castle. Yarmil was going to ask who the white lady was, when the princess said: “That is my mother, who has aided in my liberation.”

Soon they were at the great gate; and when they had passed it, and looked back, there was nothing but a mouse-hole. They arrived at the king’s castle just in the same moment with the two elder brothers and their princesses. But no one looked at them, for the eyes of all were turned to Yarmil’s bride.

The king was rejoiced most of all. He conducted the bride to the banqueting-hall, where there was a multitude of guests, and with tears of delight he exalted the happiness of his favorite son; but the elder princes and the queen were enraged, though they would not let it be known.

On the following day came the weddings of the three princes; though Yarmil and his bride were the last, still glory came only to them. At the banquet the guests drank continually to the health of his bride, so that the other princesses were purple from shame.

When Yarmil was almost reeling with delight, the queen drew near him, and praised with great flattery the beauty of his bride; but all at once she spoke of her origin, and in every way tried to discover whence she had come.

Yarmil at first evaded her questions; but when she urged him vehemently to tell from what land came his bride, he said: “Dear mother, I will do everything according to thy wish, but of this one thing ask me not.”

“I know well whence she comes,” smiled the queen; “I know, too, that thou didst not see her first in her present form.”

“Of course not; but I am proud that I liberated her.”

“Oh, my dear son!” exclaimed the queen, compassionately. “I pity thee greatly for letting thyself be so duped; but dost thou know that that beauty of hers is pure deceit?”

“Why?” asked Yarmil in fright.

“Because she is a witch,” whispered the queen in his ear, with an anxious look. “There is still time,” continued she, when she saw that Yarmil as it were believed, “to extricate thyself from her snares; and I wish to aid thee in every way. But thou must tell me what form she had before.”

Yarmil said that he would not tell, but the queen did not abandon her plan. When she could not discover from him directly, she began to name every kind of beast, looking with exceeding quickness at his face. Yarmil shook his head unceasingly, but was confused when she said “toad.”

“Then she was a toad before,” cried in horror the queen. “Ah! dear son, it is ill, very ill with thee; but it may be well yet if only I know in how many skins she was living.”

Again Yarmil answered decidedly that he would not tell, but the queen tried so long that at last she discovered. Now she knew what she wanted, and went from Yarmil. It is a wonder that he was not suspicious, but he said nothing to the princess.

Next morning a number of guests went with the king and his sons to the chase, and stayed in the forest till evening; thus the queen could act freely.

While the three princesses and the remaining guests were walking in the garden, she stole into the chamber of Yarmil’s bride, found the twelve shirts and the tapers, hid them in her own apartments, and in the evening, when the king had returned from the chase and all were sitting in the banqueting-hall at table, she went to the garden, where she burned the shirts and the tapers. At that moment Yarmil’s bride felt great faintness, so that she went for fresh air in the garden.

Yarmil hurried after her, but he had scarcely gone through the door, when she cried: “Woe is me, Yarmil! Thou hast told what I forbade thee to tell. Forget me; I must now to the glass mountain, from which there is no liberation.” Straightway she vanished in the darkness of night.

Yarmil remained a moment as if paralyzed; then he ran through the garden as if he had lost his wits, and called his bride by the most endearing names, but in vain. The guests ran out at the sound of his lamentation, and were greatly terrified when Yarmil told his misfortune. The queen also came quickly, and listened as if with terrified wonder to what had happened.

“That was a witch,” said she; “and ’tis well that other mishaps have not come.”

But the king was grieved more than all, and put an end to the rejoicing. Next day the two elder brothers went away with their brides, and poor Yarmil stayed home alone. In vain did his father try to comfort him; in vain did he promise that he would go himself to seek another bride for him. Yarmil was not to be consoled; and when the first onrush of sorrow had passed, he resolved to go to the glass mountain for his bride.

“In what direction wilt thou go?” objected his father. “While I live no one has heard of a glass mountain.”

“Still I will go,” said Yarmil, firmly. “It will come to the same whether I perish on the road or at home; in any event I shall die of disappointment.”

The king tried in all ways to dissuade him from going, but Yarmil would not let him talk. He mounted his horse, dropped the reins, and let him go whithersoever he would. He travelled long in this objectless way, hither and thither; but at last he saw that he must act differently if he meant to reach the glass mountain. But now came his real trouble; for wherever he asked about the glass mountain, people stared at him, and said that there was no such mountain in the world. Yarmil did not let himself be frightened; and now he galloped the more eagerly on his horse, and asked the more carefully everywhere. He had passed through towns without number, but still no one knew of a glass mountain. At last he heard the name.

In a certain town there was a juggler,—a showman with every kind of wonder. Yarmil was just going past him at the moment when he cried out: “The witch with her twelve daughters on the glass mountain!”

Yarmil called the juggler aside and said: “Here are ten goldpieces, tell me where the glass mountain is.”

“I am a poor man,” said the juggler, honestly, “and need these goldpieces greatly; but I know nothing of the glass mountain.”

“Nor in what country it is?” asked Yarmil, impatiently.

“I know that,” answered the man. “It is in the east, but they say it is very far off; and besides, they say that no one can go within twenty miles of it.”

Yarmil threw the ten goldpieces into the juggler’s cap, and putting spurs to his horse galloped off to the east. Many a time did the sun rise and set before he reached the glass mountain. But what good did it do him to go there? Around the mountain flowed an immensely great river, and on the bridge which was across it stood on guard three very fierce giants.

Yarmil’s courage fell. That moment the white lady from the white castle appeared suddenly before him and said: “Bind thy horse’s hoofs with thy coat, and go very carefully over the bridge. The giant who stands on watch will see thee only when thou art in front of him, and will start after thee; but throw behind this dust and nothing will harm thee. Do the same for the second and third giant.” She gave him three packages of dust, and said: “Beyond the river is a mill in which they give a witch to grind. Ask the miller for a night’s lodging; he will give it thee, and invite thee to supper. Towards the end of the supper the cook will bring him a roast cock, and to that he will not invite thee; he eats it all himself. The bones of it he leaves on the plate and the cook must throw them under the wheel; but tell her to hide them for thee. And when it will be midnight, go to the glass mountain and put the bones before thee; but be careful to save one till thou art on the summit, then throw that last one back over thy head.”

The moment the lady had finished, she disappeared. Yarmil sprang from his horse, tore his coat into four pieces, and with them muffled the feet of his horse; then he mounted and rode cautiously to the bridge. The first giant was sitting with his back to him and dozing. Yarmil passed him safely; but that moment the giant woke, and howled with a terrible voice to him to come back. Here Yarmil threw the dust behind, and that moment there was such darkness that it hid the giant completely. The same happened with the second and third giant, and Yarmil crossed the river safely. Not far off was the mill, and the miller stood just on the threshold.

“What dost thou wish here?” growled he at Yarmil.

“Oh, grant me a night’s lodging,” said Yarmil; “I am a traveller from distant lands.”

“I’ll give thee nothing,” answered the miller, roughly, “for if I did I should lose my place.”

Yarmil begged again, and begged so long that the miller asked: “Whence art thou?” Yarmil told him; and the miller, meditating awhile, said: “Well, if thou art the son of so powerful a king, I will give thee a night’s lodging; for we are from the same country, and I knew thy father very well.”

Then he led him to a sitting-room; and since it was just dark, he asked him to supper. Yarmil watched continually to see if the cock would soon come to the table, and he had not long to wait. The miller grew sullen, and without speaking a word ate the cock. Yarmil went out, and pressing a few goldpieces into the hands of the cook, begged her to hide the bones of the cock for him. The moment the cook saw the goldpieces she was glad to agree.

When the miller had picked the cock he called the cook and ordered her strictly to throw the bones under the wheel. The cook took the plate and motioning as if she had thrown them into the water, put them very adroitly into her apron; when all were asleep she gave them to Yarmil. He waited quietly till the approach of midnight, then he went out cautiously and made for the glass mountain with his horse. Full of expectation he took out the first bone and put it on the mountain; and behold! in a moment a step was made so that he could walk comfortably on it, and so it happened with every bone. Yarmil was already at the summit and only one bone remained to him; this he threw with all his power over his head, and in a twinkle there was a pleasant highway along which his horse ran after him with ease.

All wearied, Yarmil fell down at the castle, in which lived the sorceress with the twelve princesses her daughters, and he soon fell asleep. When he woke the sun was high in the heavens; and before he could think what further to do, his own princess came to him.

“I told thee,” said she, reproachfully, “to forget me; but thou didst not obey.”

“Hide me somewhere quickly from the sorceress; in the night we will flee.”

“Simple man!” said the princess smiling. “She knows long ago that thou art here; rather go to her, but be polite beyond measure. At dinner, rise after each dish and walk through the room, otherwise thou wilt stay here for the ages.”

Yarmil had to obey. When he came to the sorceress he bowed low before her, and said: “Great mighty lady, I have come for my bride.”

“I will give her to thee,” smiled the sorceress, “but first thou must serve me three years.”

“I am glad to do everything thou mayest desire,” said Yarmil bowing; and the sorceress answered graciously, inviting him at once to the table, to which just then one of the princesses brought the first dish. Yarmil ate with a relish; but when he had finished, he said to the sorceress: “Permit me, great mighty lady, to walk a little. I have travelled so much that I fear my legs will lose their power.”

“Oh, walk if it please thee,” answered the sorceress, but her eyes glittered with anger. And Yarmil did the same after each dish, and the sorceress was ready to split from rage. Next day she gave him a wooden axe and saw, and said: “Thou must clear all that forest over there, or be the son of Death.”

Yarmil took the axe and the saw, and went on. In the forest he threw himself on the ground and thought of death; for such a stretch of forest no man could clear alone, still less with such tools. At midday his princess brought him dinner.

“Ah!” scolded she, “thou art not working diligently.”

“Why trouble myself for nothing?” sighed Yarmil.

“Only be of good courage,” said the princess, comforting him. “It is not so bad to-day; it will be worse to-morrow.”

Then she gave him dinner; and when Yarmil had eaten, he put his head on her lap and fell asleep soundly. Then the princess took out of her bosom some kind of powder, and muttering mysterious words she threw it in the air. And wonder of wonders! in the twinkle of an eye invisible hands began to fell the aged trees, cut, split, and pile, so that in a short time the whole forest was felled.

Now Yarmil woke up, and hurried with the princess to the castle. The sorceress praised him; she suppressed her rage with difficulty, and said: “Thou hast worked out thy first year in order.”

Next day the sorceress gave him a spade and a wheelbarrow, and said: “Thou must carry away that mountain out there, or be the son of Death.”

Yarmil went with his tools to the hill, but when there he threw himself on the ground, for a thousand men would not have been able to carry off the hill in ten years. At midday his princess brought him dinner, and said: “Oh, thou art working as diligently as yesterday!”

“I am,” sighed Yarmil.

“Only be of good cheer,” said the princess, comforting him. “To-day it is not so bad; it will be worse to-morrow.”

When Yarmil had eaten, he put his head on her lap and fell asleep. The princess again threw into the air a powder of some kind, muttering mysterious words; and straightway unseen hands began to work so vigorously that in a short time the hill was carried away.

Then Yarmil woke up, and hurried to the sorceress to tell her he had done what she had commanded. She flamed up in anger, but nevertheless said: “Thou hast worked the second year of thy service in order.”

Next day she gave him a tailor’s thimble, and said: “Thou must bail out that fish-pond, or be the son of Death.”

Yarmil took the thimble and went. At the fish-pond, however, he threw himself on the ground and waited for the princess. She came sooner than usual; and when Yarmil, strengthened with food, had fallen asleep with his head on her lap, she threw powder in the air, muttering mysterious words. Soon the water began to disappear from the fish-pond. Now she roused Yarmil, and said to him: “Draw thy sword, and give good care. When all the water is gone from the pond the sorceress will take the shape of a rain-storm, and try to destroy us; but look well at the darkness, and where it is blackest strike there with thy sword.”

Yarmil promised to do so, and had barely drawn his sword when a black darkness rushed from the castle,—but almost on the ground, so that Yarmil could strike the blackest spot with ease. At that moment the darkness turned into the sorceress, and Yarmil’s sword stuck in her heart. With fearful cursing, she fell to the earth and died. Yarmil hurried to the castle with the princess, mounted his horse, and rushed off at a swift gallop.

He had to travel far before he came to his father’s castle; but to make up, there was joy unspeakable at the happy meeting. The queen was terrified when she saw them, and she had reason; for when Yarmil told all to his father the king gave her to be burned without mercy.

When the feasting was over Yarmil set out with his wife on the journey to their kingdom. When they came to the mouse-hole it was no longer a mouse-hole, but a magnificent gate leading to a great city, in the middle of which stood a golden castle on a hill; and in that city there were multitudes of people everywhere, and in the castle throngs of courtiers and servants, who greeted with mighty applause their master and mistress, thanking Yarmil at the same time for their liberation.

Now followed feasting, which lasted for eight whole days; and when the feasting was over they all lived happily beyond measure, because the royal pair were goodness itself.

[Go to notes]

THE CUIRASSIER AND THE HORNED PRINCESS.

IN a certain town were encamped a regiment of cuirassiers, and they had a very unpleasant life. Twelve men of them agreed to desert,—three sergeants and nine from the ranks. They carried out their plan; and when they had gone a good distance, one said to the rest: “Let us look, brothers, and see if we are not pursued.” Another dismounted, and climbed a high tree,—“Oh! they are searching; but they will not overtake us, for we are far in advance of them.” Then he came down, mounted his horse, and all rode rapidly on,—rode till dusk. Then the chief man said: “Where shall we go for the night, brothers? Around here we see nothing but mountains and forests.”

One of them climbed a tree again to look for a light. He saw one, and called to his comrades, “Look out! We will ride in the direction in which I throw this sword, for I see a light there.”

All rode toward the light, and came to a very large building in the wild mountains. At the first glance they saw it was an enormous castle, which was open. They entered the court, led their horses to the stable,—where oats were ready for twelve horses,—and then went themselves into a hall where a table was laid for twelve persons, so that all might sit down and eat; but there was not a living soul to be seen.

“Brothers,” said one of them, “may we touch this food and drink?”

“Why not?” said the chief. “What if we have to pay a few ducats for the entertainment?”

They sat down, and ate with good relish. After they had eaten and drunk, an old sorceress slipped in and saluted them, saying: “Good evening, gentlemen. I greet you in this our famous castle. Did the supper taste well?”

“We ate with pleasure,” answered one in the name of all, “only we were a little afraid how it would end.”

“Fear not, fear not, I am glad ye are strengthened after the long ride,” said the sorceress; and then she said further: “Now of course ye will need good beds, so as to refresh yourselves with grateful sleep. In the next chamber are twelve beds and twelve caskets. Lie on the beds prepared for you, but let no man dare, on pain of great punishment, to look at the caskets, which are unlocked.”

All went to the next chamber; the sorceress gave them good-night and went out through the opposite door. In the morning when they rose everything was well prepared for them,—basins with water and towels, and food for each man. After breakfast they spoke of the good cheer which they had not expected to find in the castle. They spoke of various subjects till they came to the caskets, and the splendid things that must be therein. Some expressed great curiosity; some were heard to say that they could not refrain till evening from looking in the caskets; others warned their comrades not to do that which they might regret.

They had a pleasant time all day at the castle, an excellent dinner, a good lunch, a splendid supper. After supper they went to bed. The sun was shining brightly through the windows next morning, but no man was stirring.

The chief rose and called the others, saying, “It is time to be up.” Only two gave answer; the rest did not move. These three went to the beds and found their comrades lifeless. All were terrified, and went to the stable to look at their horses. In the stable they found the nine dead horses, of the nine dead men.

“What shall we do?” asked one of them. “We must leave this place where our comrades have perished; nothing can comfort us again.”

They returned to the hall where breakfast was ready for only three. They sat down and ate. After eating, the sorceress came again, and said: “Ye see, my friends, that sinful curiosity has cost those nine men their lives. They could withstand it no longer, rose at midnight, opened the caskets, and looked at the contents; scarcely had they lain down again when sudden death overtook them. Had they followed my advice, as ye have, all might have had a pleasant time, and lived joyously here a whole year. Now I see by your faces that nothing can comfort you here, and that ye would gladly go away.”

“Yes,” answered one, “we fear to remain longer in this place, where our comrades died a sudden death.”

“There is nothing to fear,” said the sorceress; “but since it is unpleasant for you, I will not keep you. Go where ye like, but before going each may look without fear or danger in his casket, and take the things inside to remember me by; they may be useful.”

The men were afraid at first to open the caskets, having before their eyes the sad example of their comrades; but when the sorceress assured them again and again that they might open them without fear and take out the contents, they grew bold and opened them. The first took from his casket a cap, which the sorceress said had such power that whoever put it on his head no man could see him. The second drew from his casket a mantle, and whoever put it on, the sorceress said, could fly through the air as high as he wished. The third took a purse which had the power that whenever it was shaken ten ducats were in it.

The sorceress bade them good-by. They thanked her for the hospitality and useful presents, and saddling their horses, rode away from that castle with the Lord God.

They travelled long, and on the road kept telling what a good time they would have with their gifts. At last they came to a large town, took up their lodging at an inn, and asked what there was strange in the place. The innkeeper answered: “Nothing, unless it be that we have a princess immeasurably fond of playing cards, and who says that no one is able to play with her. She vanquishes every comer, and then has him flogged out of the castle.”

The man who had the purse thought, “Wait a while, I’ll settle thy play.” He made ready straightway, and went to the castle. He had himself announced, and declared that he wished to play with the princess. Meanwhile the other two ate and drank well in the inn.

The princess was glad to find some one again with whom to play cards and whom she might overcome. She had him brought in without delay. The game began. The man lost; but he didn’t mind that, for whenever he lost he shook the purse and had ten ducats again. So he kept losing and shaking the purse till the princess was astonished, and thought to herself: “Where dost thou get all these ducats, good man? Thou hast not a treasury at thy side, and still thou hast plenty of money. How dost thou get it?”

She watched him and saw that he shook the purse on his knee, from which he took the ducats. She had already won a great bag of ducats, but still was not able to win all he had. She kept thinking how to get that magic purse. “Now let us rest a little,” said she, and went to the next room, from which she brought two goblets of wine. One she gave him and drank the other herself, for they were tired and needed refreshment. Her wine was pure, but in his she put a sleeping-powder. She drank to his health, and he emptied his goblet at a draught. After a while he was so very drowsy that he slipped from the seat, dropped under the table, and fell soundly asleep. That was his misfortune. The princess took the magic purse and gave him one like it containing ten ducats.

When he woke up the princess said to him: “Now let us play again.” They played while he had ducats. When the ducats were gone he shook and shook the purse, but in vain. The princess said: “Well, my dear man, since thou hast no money, go. But that disgrace which I have put on others I will not put on thee. I will not have thee flogged out of the castle because I have won much money from thee; go in peace.”

He went to his friends in great trouble. They greeted him from afar, and called out: “Well, how didst thou prosper?”

“Oh, badly, very badly, brothers; I no longer have the purse; I lost that.”

“Oh, comrade, that is bad; how shall we live now? We are in debt for food and drink, and have nothing to pay with.”

The one who had the magic mantle said: “Do ye know what, brothers? I’ll take a good vengeance on that wicked woman!”

“But how?” was the question.

He answered, “This is how I’ll do it. Let me have thy cap so that no one may see me, and I’ll take my mantle. When the princess is going to church I’ll seize her, fly with her through the air to desert regions, so far away that she will never be able to come home again.”

“Yes, that will be a just punishment for her,” said the two others. The third one immediately took the cap, wrapped the mantle around him, and waited for the princess. As she was going along the street he seized her, flew far away with her to wild mountains, and let her down there on the ground near a pear-tree. On that tree were beautiful pears.

The princess begged the man to climb the tree and shake it, so that she might have some of the fruit to eat. “I’ll gratify thee just once,” said he. But he was so cunning that he did not leave the cap or magic mantle on the ground, but took them up on the tree, hung them both on a limb, and shook the tree with all his might. The cap and the mantle fell to the ground before the pears. The princess put the cap on her head at once, wrapped the mantle around her, and was off in an instant,—sooner than the man on the tree had recovered from his fright.

He was now alone in the wild mountains. What was he to do? He stood motionless as the tree at his side, as if senseless from a thunderbolt; he had no longer magic cap or magic mantle. “Oh, where shall I go?” groaned he, and walked around on the mountains. In his trouble and fright he picked up some pears and ate them. Then other terrible miseries came upon him, for he had barely eaten the pears when unheard of gigantic horns grew out of his head, so that he could not walk through the woods nor turn around; the horns stopped him everywhere; he could barely crawl forward.

With great care and much struggling, he dragged himself over a bit of road and came to a deep ravine, in which a hermit lived whose name was Wind.

“Oh, friend,” said the man, “help me from the mountain, and take me home.”

Said Wind, “I am not strong enough to bear thee to thy home, but go to my brother; he is the strongest of us. He will take thee home quickly.”

“I should like to go to him, but I cannot move.”

“He is not far from here,—there, on that side; but go as well as thou art able. He will rid thee of those horns.”

The man pushed through as best he could, and came, covered with sweat, to another cave, in which the eldest Wind brother was living. He fell on his knees before Wind, and cried imploringly: “Be so kind as to bear me home!”

“I should like to help thee, my friend; but it is not so easy as may seem to thee. I must go to the Lord to ask with what force Wind may blow. If Wind may blow so trees will be torn out with their roots, thou canst reach home; if Wind blows but weakly, thou wilt not go there, for ’tis far. Wait a while; I’ll come back soon.”

Wind went to ask the Lord how hard he might blow, and the Lord commanded him to blow mightily.

When he returned, the man asked: “How is it?”

“Well,” said Wind, “I must blow mightily; thou wilt reach home. But knowest thou there is an apple-tree over there? Climb it, pluck an apple, cut it into four parts, and eat; thy great horns will fall off.”

The man was glad, climbed the apple-tree quickly, but the horns hindered him much. He plucked an apple and ate it; how soon was he free of the horns! He came down from the tree like a squirrel, and thought: “Oh, brother, thou’lt get back thy things!” As he was coming down he took more apples and put them in his pocket; then went to the pear-tree and took pears. Soon Wind caught him up, bore him off swiftly, and in a short time put him down in front of the inn where his friends were waiting impatiently. They were all very glad.

“Where wert thou?” asked they.

“Oh, I was where ye will not be to your dying day, brothers!”

“How didst thou prosper?”

“Badly, badly.”

“Where hast thou the cap and the mantle?”

“Oh, that woman took them from me!”

“Woe to us,—woe, passing woe! Now we have neither the purse, the cap, nor the mantle. We are beggared beyond reckoning.”

The innkeeper would not let them go because of their debt.

“What will become of us?” asked they in one voice.

The man whom Wind bore home said: “I have here noble and wonderful fruit which I brought from the wild mountains. One of you will take these pears to the street and sell them; but do not dare to sell them to any one save the princess when she is going home from church. For the people thou must put such a price that they will not buy; for the princess reduce the price so that she may buy.”

One of the men put the pears in a clean basket, covered them with a neat cloth, and went to the square through which the princess was wont to go to church and return. Soon she was coming out of the church, her servant following some steps behind. She saw the uncommonly beautiful pears from a distance, came up herself, and asked: “How many dost thou give for a copper?”

“Oh, these pears are not sold for copper coin! They are so splendid, and have such a flavor, that I can give only three for a ducat.”

The princess bought all, and gave them to her servant to carry; she had barely reached home, and sat near the table, when she took a golden knife, pared and ate with great relish a number of pears. She ate with such pleasure that she saw not how horns began to grow on her head after the first pear; and in a little while they had grown so much that she could not remain in the room. She went to the great supper-hall, but even there was forced to lie down on the floor, so broad and so lofty were her horns. She gave herself up to fearful lamentation and tears, so that all the servants and the king, her father, with the queen, her mother, ran in. All were horrified and wrung their hands, seeing the princess disfigured.

The king sent quickly for the doctors, who came in all haste from each corner and town. The servants ran to every place; each one in his excitement brought whomsoever he knew. The doctors met and shook their heads one after another; each said that in his life he had never seen nor had experience of such a case. They held a consultation, and at last decided to saw off the horns. They went to work, but in vain; they had barely sawed a piece, when it grew on again quickly, so that fright seized every one. The princess was so horrified and ashamed that she would have preferred to be out of the world; no man could help her. Then the king made proclamation that whoso would free the princess from the horns, would get her in marriage, and with her the whole kingdom.

Who was so glad now as the man with the apples? “Wait,” thought he; “my little bird, thou’lt sing as I whistle,—no man can help thee but me.”

He had fine clothes brought, and dressed as a doctor had himself announced at the palace. He was soon admitted, and began to speak to the princess, saying: “You must have angered God greatly, must have committed grievous sins, for which you are punished in this way. I expect to give you real help; but first of all you must tell me sincerely what you have done,—my aid has to be rendered in view of that.”

She confessed with weeping that she had been fond of playing cards; had outplayed all men, then had them flogged from the castle. The last time she had played with a stranger, from whom she had stolen a magic purse; and afterward she had stolen from another man a magic cap and mantle. No doubt the Lord had now punished her for that.

“Before we can think of a cure,” said the unknown physician, “you must return the stolen property.”

The princess had all the above-mentioned articles brought at once, and gave them gladly to the doctor, who promised to deliver them to the owners. “I will carry them away,” said he, “and bring my medicine, through which you will be freed from the horns.”

Half an hour later he returned, took her by the hand, looked at her tongue, and said: “Charming woman, you have eaten something, I suppose, from which these horns grew.”

The princess answered: “I don’t know that I have eaten anything harmful; I ate a few beautiful pears; with that exception I have never eaten any common food.”

“You must have eaten something,” said the doctor. “I have good medicine that will not fail; but I can only help you on condition that I receive the whole kingdom, with you in marriage, as our lord the king has proclaimed.”

The king and princess promised then that the proclamation would be carried out if he would free her from the horns. After these words he set about the cure. He took from his pocket an apple, and cut it into four parts; he told her to lie down, and gave her the first fourth of the apple. She was not able however to lie with comfort by reason of the horns. When she had eaten all the four quarters of the apple, the horns fell off at a blow. Then there was mighty gladness throughout the whole castle; every one rejoiced that the princess, the only daughter of the king, was free of her horns.

The king had the marriage contract drawn up, and soon after they celebrated the wedding, at which the two friends of the young king were present; and he promised that while they lived they should remain at his court as the very first lords.

There was eating and drinking at the wedding; and among other things they ate bread made from rye. But, Mark tell thou no lie.

[Go to notes]

THE TREACHEROUS BROTHERS.

THERE was a king, and he had seven sons,—young men strong and healthy as deer, except the seventh, the youngest, whose name was Jalmir. He was in his twentieth year, and still a nurse had to care for him as for a little child. It was pitiful to look at Jalmir; he was as shapely as a maiden, and beautiful as a spring day, still could not walk from weakness. How much the king had paid to doctors, quacks, and every kind of old woman, to cure him, but in vain! At last the afflicted father lost all hope that his dearest son would ever grow strong.

For this reason there reigned in the king’s palace deep distress, which was in no way to the taste of Jalmir’s brothers, especially since they could not hunt in the neighborhood. “What shall we do in future?” asked the eldest one day when they were resting in the forest after a hunt. “Let us go into the world.”

“Yes, yes!” answered all the others. They went home and laid their wishes before their father.

“What am I to do?” objected the king. “Jalmir is sickly; I shall be without aid in my old age.”

The sons agreed with him in this, but wheedled him so slyly that at last they received his consent to go out in the world. They rushed with rejoicing to the stable, chose the best horses, took what money they could, and that same day rode away from their father’s house at a gallop, without even saying good-by to their brother Jalmir. How strange was the feeling at the heart of the poor fellow when his nurse told him of this! He turned from her in silence; but under the pillow with which he covered his face he shed many tears. When it was growing dark the nurse hurried out of his chamber to chat with the servants. She began with the cook, and they talked till midnight was near before she knew it.

Meanwhile Jalmir was lying on his bed sadder than ever. This time he was not thinking of his bodily pain, but of his brothers who had left him without saying farewell; this troubled him most. He thought, “Shall I ever be well?” and some internal voice said that he would. Filled with hope he fell into a doze, and saw himself hunting on horseback, and hurling a spear at wild beasts as his brothers had done. All at once, and near midnight, a venerable man, with snow-white beard reaching to his waist, stood before the bed, and said: “Jalmir art thou sleeping?”

Jalmir started, opened his eyes, but saw no one. “That was a dream,” thought he. He meditated a while, and again closed his eyes. After a short time the old man stood before him again, and asked: “Jalmir art thou sleeping?” Jalmir opened his eyes quickly, but saw no one. “That was only a dream then,” said he to himself, and again closed his eyes. But soon the old man stood before him and inquired a third time: “Jalmir art thou sleeping?”

“I am not,” said Jalmir, and rubbing his eyes, saw the old man at his bed.

“Rise in the morning,” said the old man, “provide thyself with everything for the road, and go through the southern gate. Outside the town thou wilt find under an old pear-tree a white horse; mount that horse and ride after thy brothers.” Then the old man vanished in a twinkle.

Jalmir rubbed his eyes again, and looked around his chamber, but there was no old man anywhere. “It was only a dream,” thought he. Again he lay down and slept soundly; but when he woke in the morning he felt so well that he sprang from his bed, and jumped around the chamber from gladness. His nurse returned at that moment; but when she saw that her weakly charge was well, she ran to the king, and before she had reached the door, cried: “Jalmir is well!”

The king went out, and asked in a sad voice: “Hast thou lost thy senses?”

“He is really well,” said the nurse with greater rejoicing; but the king shook his head.

Meanwhile Jalmir recollected his supposed dream, and ascribed his recovery to that majestic old man. “Since he has cured me, I must obey him,” said he to himself. He dressed quickly and went to the king. When the king saw him he believed the nurse, and, thoroughly happy, fell on the young man’s neck; but he was astonished still more when Jalmir said: “Now, father, let me go; I must follow my brothers.”

“And thou wilt leave me?” complained the father.

“I must,” answered Jalmir seriously, and he told his dream. The king shook his head incredulously, and at first would not even hear of the departure of his favorite son; but at last he consented with tears. Jalmir made ready for the journey without delay.

The king gave him a carriage and four servants, he took money, and departed straightway. Outside the town he dismissed the servants, giving them the carriage and the horses, and walked on alone to the pear-tree, where a splendid white steed was waiting, stamping the ground impatiently. “Sit on me, quickly,” said he with the voice of a man, “or we shall be late.”

Jalmir sprang to his back and they went on, not on the ground though, but through the air. In a short time the white steed asked: “Dost thou see thy brothers?”

“I do not see,” answered Jalmir.

“But the hill on which they are?”

“Neither do I see that.”

“Thou wilt soon see it,” said the steed, and hastened his course. “Dost thou see the hill now?” asked he after a time.

“I see,” answered Jalmir, “and on it are six ants.”

“Those are thy brothers,” said the white steed. “But now listen; we shall soon come up with them, but do not make thyself known. We shall pass the night in an inn. Thy brothers will feast, but will not be able to pay, for they lost all their money foolishly yesterday. Pay for them; in the morning we shall go farther.”

Jalmir promised to do this, and then the white steed came down to the earth. Soon they overtook the brothers, who did not know Jalmir; and indeed, how could they in that stately, fiery hero recognize their weakly brother. Jalmir bowed to them courteously, and asked permission to travel in their company.

“But where art thou going?” inquired one of the brothers.

“To see the world,” answered Jalmir.

“We too,” cried the others; “so thou must go with us.”

Jalmir bowed to them, and in silence agreed with a nod. But his brothers all gave him their hands, and soon began to tell him how delightfully they had passed the previous day. Jalmir did not, however, find much that was pleasant in it, and frowned.

“Art sorry that thou wert not there?” asked one of the brothers. “Never mind, we can have such days yet without number.”

With that they came to an inn. The innkeeper, seeing through the window so many lords, ran out and took the horses. When he took the white steed, Jalmir asked: “Hast thou a stable apart?”

“Yes; and such a one!” boasted the innkeeper.

“Then put my horse in it alone,” said Jalmir, “for he is very vicious.”

Then he followed his brothers to a room where they were already seated at a table, and calling with terrible uproar on the innkeeper for wine. In a short time the innkeeper brought all that he had, and the brothers drank, sang, shouted, and rioted till the inn trembled; but Jalmir barely drank for one, because he was sick from the action of his brothers. But how grieved was he when one of the brothers said: “This is a different life from being at home with that grumbling father and that sickly brother.”

Gradually one after the other dropped under the table, overcome by wine. When all were asleep Jalmir said to the innkeeper: “Be careful that no harm comes to them; I will sleep a little too.”

Then he was going to lie on a bench near the fire. “Do not,” said the innkeeper; “I have a bed ready for thee. Come with me.”

Jalmir, after useless refusals, followed him at last; but before he lay down he visited the white steed to see if he had plenty of oats and water.

When the brothers woke in the morning they looked for Jalmir with a great outcry: “It would have been a nice thing if he had run away from us!” cried one to another. “Who would pay?—for I have no money.”

Soon Jalmir came to the room and told them to travel farther; all was settled.

“Thou art ours,” said they. All embraced him,—’tis a wonder they did not suffocate him. Escaping from the brothers, Jalmir went to his horse. The brothers followed his example, and soon the inn was far behind.

“Listen,” said the white steed to Jalmir, when the brothers had gone ahead. “In the evening we shall come to a castle, in which lives a sorceress with her seven daughters; they will take your horses, and lead you to a chamber. The sorceress will bring you wine after supper, but drink not. What will take place later, thou wilt see.”

“Why loiter so?” called one of the brothers suddenly to Jalmir.

“I am coming,” answered he; and the white steed soon galloped so that in a few moments he was ahead of the brothers.

“Slower or thou wilt leave us!” cried the brothers; and the white steed waited for them of his own accord. Soon they entered a forest, rode and rode, but there was no end to the forest; only in the evening did they come out on a plain. In the middle of the plain was a beautiful castle. “Oh, now we are in luck,” said the brothers, and they began to rejoice.

They galloped into the court of the castle, and were still more rejoiced when seven princesses came forth to meet them. They sprang from their horses in a moment to give a courteous salute; but how did they wonder when the princesses took their horses by the bridles and led them to the stable. Jalmir begged the youngest princess, who had taken his steed, to put the horse in a stable apart, for he was very vicious.

She did as he wished; he saw this, and only then did he go to the supper chamber, where his brothers and the six princesses were already sitting at a great table, covered with the daintiest dishes. He came to them with the youngest princess, but ate very little, though she urged him continually; but when the vile old woman who served them brought wine and poured it to each one in a golden goblet, Jalmir seized his goblet eagerly, but did not drink the wine. He poured it out on one side.

By degrees the brothers began to doze; at last one after another they fell asleep. Jalmir suspected that the old woman had drugged them,—which was true,—and that she had no good thoughts regarding them; therefore he feigned sleep so that in the hour of need he might aid his brothers. Soon after the old woman came and put away each brother with his partner on a couch, of which there were seven in the adjoining chamber; then she went out, but returned straightway with a great broom, and began to strike the brothers. First she struck the eldest, but he moved not; when she had finished with the six she came to Jalmir, and said to herself: “If six are asleep, so is the seventh.” She went out, but soon returned with sulphur in her hand, and burned it under the nose of each brother. She began with the eldest, and as not one of them moved, she said when she reached Jalmir: “If six are asleep, so is the seventh.”

She went out, but came back bringing pitch, which she burned on the breast of each brother. She began with the eldest, and as none of them sighed, she said when she reached Jalmir: “If six are asleep, so is the seventh; now I may cut off their heads without fear.”

Jalmir quivered; and when the old woman went out, he sprang quickly from the couch, put each of his brothers in the place of a princess and did the same with himself. The old woman returned with a sword, but without a light, and cut off the heads of the seven princesses; then she went out. Jalmir sprang up in a moment and tried to rouse his brothers, but in vain. What anguish the poor fellow suffered; only towards morning did the brothers wake and look in terror at the dead bodies of the princesses. But Jalmir exclaimed in a voice of despair: “Let us flee!” and rushed forth; the brothers followed him. In the stable they untied their horses, and springing on them hurried in a wild chase from the castle and across the broad plain.

The sorceress soon saw their flight, and pursued; but as they had crossed the boundary of her castle lands she had power over them no longer, and with work undone was forced to go home, where she cursed herself above the dead bodies of her daughters. The brothers rode without stopping, farther and farther, till at last the castle disappeared from their sight; then they made the first halt to rest and inquire of Jalmir what had been done to them. When they heard that he had saved them from certain death, they fell upon his neck and cried: “Tell us who thou art, since thou hast done so much for us.”

“Who else but your brother Jalmir,” answered he, almost swimming in tears; and he pressed brother after brother to his breast. But how astonished was he when he saw that they were much colder to him than they had been when they knew him not! Still, they asked how he had recovered, why he had ridden after them, and what their father was doing. But gradually they grew silent and hung their heads. Beyond doubt it was not to their liking that just the youngest of them was so wise.

Jalmir also was silent, and his white steed dropped behind of his own accord. When the brothers could not hear him, he said to his master: “I told thee not to discover thyself, but thou didst not obey me. The results thou canst lay to thyself. In a few days we shall come to a mighty king; thou and thy brothers will enter his service. When in need come to me for advice.”

Jalmir stroked the white steed, and begged his forgiveness. From that time the brothers were no longer joyous as before, and kept noticeably aside from Jalmir. But since they had no money they wheedled him greatly whenever they saw an inn, since he always paid for them. After some days they came to a great city. Their first road, however, was to the inn, where they ate moderately but drank beyond measure; and now they began to do such senseless things that Jalmir went to his steed as quickly as possible to get consolation.

When the brothers were alone the eldest said: “I have had favors enough from that sickly brother; to-morrow we will go to the king of this country and serve him. What do ye think?”

“We will all go with thee,” cried the others; but suddenly they were confused, for Jalmir had returned.

“Where are ye going?” inquired he. “I will go with you.”

The brothers answered him sullenly, but Jalmir said he would go. Towards evening, when the brothers had had a good sleep, they went to the king, who made them men of his court without delay. Now they had a good living, large pay, and almost nothing to do; but as an offset they were still not at rest, for Jalmir was always a thorn in their eyes, especially since the friendship of the king for him increased every day.

Once when the brothers, from idleness, were examining the chambers of the king’s castle, they came to one in which were all kinds of books, small and great, piled up to the ceiling. They fell to reading these books with great eagerness.

“Brothers,” cried one of them suddenly, “I read here that the king has not a bird in his kingdom.”

“Is this true?” exclaimed the others in wonder; “we have not noticed it.”

“But know ye,” asked the eldest, “to what use we may put this?” All shook their heads. “Listen,” said he in a whisper; “we will tell the king that Jalmir knows about birds, and to send him for them.”

“And the king will do so at once,” said the brother who had read of the birds, “for here is written the great cost of the birds eaten on the king’s table in a year.”

They stopped reading at once and went straight to the king, to whom they told what they thought. “But, gracious king,” said the eldest, “thou must sharply insist, or Jalmir will excuse himself, saying that he knows nothing of birds.”

The king nodded graciously and sent for Jalmir. He came quickly, and the king said: “As thou knowest well I have no birds in my kingdom, therefore I command thee to bring them.”

“I, gracious king,” said Jalmir, in fright, “know nothing of birds.”

“Whether thou knowest or knowest not,” said the king, in sudden anger, “thou’lt get birds.” With that he waved his hand, and poor Jalmir went out with drooping head. Whither can he go? Who can help him in peril? He went straight to the white steed and complained.

“Grieve not,” said the steed; “at dusk we will go for the birds.”

Jalmir thanked the horse, and could hardly wait till evening. The moment the sun had disappeared behind the woods he was ready for the road; and when the first star had appeared in the sky he led out the white steed, sprang on his back, and flew off like the wind. “But where are we going?” inquired Jalmir of his steed on the way.

“To that sorceress in whose castle thou didst save thy brothers from death,” answered the horse.

“To that place!” cried Jalmir in fright.

“Have no fear,” said the steed, comforting him; “only do to a hair what I tell thee.”

The good steed now increased his speed so that he went like an arrow, and about an hour later he came to the ground at the castle of the sorceress. Jalmir sprang from him, and the steed said: “When thou art in the first chamber thou wilt see silver cages, and in them silver birds; in the second chamber will be golden cages with golden birds; in the third chamber diamond cages with diamond birds. Of all these touch nothing, or such a blow will fall that the whole castle will tremble, and the sorceress will seize thee to kill thee. But go to the fourth chamber; there take a wooden cage in which is a mean-looking bird, and hasten to me.”

Jalmir entered the first chamber with courage, but cautiously, and looking at nothing, went to the second chamber; there the glitter of gold dazzled him somewhat. When he opened the door to the third chamber he stood almost blind on the threshold; but quickly recovering, he shaded his eyes, ran to the fourth chamber, and seizing the cage with the bird in an instant, rushed out swift as an arrow. He sprang on the horse, which rose with him through the air in a moment. The sorceress burst out of the castle, and cursing fearfully because she could not stop him, screamed: “But thou wilt come here again!”

When the white steed was beyond the boundary of the castle land, he said to Jalmir: “Open the cage and let the bird fly.”

“But shall I not bring it to the king?”

“Only do what I ask,” said the steed, with such a stern voice that Jalmir obeyed without thinking.

It was yet night when they reached home. Jalmir tied the horse in the stable and went to his room to strengthen himself with sleep, but he did not sleep long. The morning dawn had barely shown itself when in the king’s garden was heard such a loud and cheerful singing of birds that all the people were soon on their feet, and earlier than any the king. At the first moment he was so astonished that he asked whence these wonderful creatures had come.

“Royal Grace,” said one of the brothers, “thou didst send Jalmir for them.”

“True,” said the king, as he bethought himself; “but where is Jalmir?”

A courtier soon brought him, and the king fell on his neck from very joy. He was now really dear to the king; but for that reason was held in more hatred by his brothers.

“How can we get rid of him?” asked the brothers when they were alone.

“Maybe we can read something else,” said one of them.

“Very good,” answered all, at once; and they hurried to the chamber in which so many books were collected, and it was not long before one of the brothers cried out: “The king has no beasts, and they cost him more than the birds, since he uses many more of them in a year.”

“Then let Jalmir go for them,” said the sixth brother, smiling maliciously; and they went straight to the king, to whom they told their minds. The king nodded graciously; dismissed them, called Jalmir and said: “I have no beasts in my kingdom; and since they cost me much in a year, I command thee to get me beasts.”

“I, gracious king,” said Jalmir in wonder, “know of none.”

“Thou knowest well,” said the king in anger, “for thy brothers told me.”

“Did they?” said Jalmir in astonishment. “Well, I will try;” and he went to his white steed, to whom he told everything.

“Be not down-hearted,” said the steed, comforting him. “Come to me in the evening; we will go for the beasts.”

When it was dark the good steed was flying through the air. “But where shall we go?” asked Jalmir.

“To the sorceress from whom we got the birds,” answered the steed.

“But I am afraid that she will catch me,” said Jalmir.

“Fear not,” said the steed; “only do to a hair what I tell thee.” When he came to the ground in front of the castle, he said: “In the first chamber thou wilt see a beast with silver hair, tied with silver chains; in the second chamber a beast with golden hair and golden chains; in the third, one with pearl hair and pearl chains. Touch not any of these, or a blow will fall so that the whole castle will tremble, and the sorceress will seize thee to kill thee. But go to the fourth chamber; there seize an ugly dog that is tied with a ragged rope, and hurry to me.”

Somewhat timidly, but all the more carefully, did Jalmir pass the first, second, and third chamber, shading his eyes with his hands so the glitter of the silver, gold, and pearl might not blind him. When he entered the fourth chamber he broke the rope, seized the dog in his arms, rushed out, and swift as an arrow sprang on the horse, which rose in the air. And it was high time; for scarcely had he sat on the horse when the sorceress ran out after him. When she was unable to stop him, she cursed fearfully, and screamed: “But thou wilt come here again!”

When the steed had sprung over the boundary of the castle land, he said: “Now let the dog go.”

Jalmir obeyed at once, for he was sure the steed gave good counsel. When they came home, dawn was already appearing; still Jalmir lay on the bed, for he was greatly wearied. He did not sleep long, however; for barely had the dawn come when there was a noise in the castle, in the town, and outside the town, as if the earth were breaking. The king sprang in wonder to the window. But how astonished was he! Right in the garden he saw deer, stags, rabbits; on the trees squirrels; on the ground under the trees mice; in short, such myriads of beasts that his eyes danced. In the king’s garden it was pleasant for the beasts; but in the town and outside the town the people killed them, chased wildly after them, and threw stones at them. This displeased the king; and he issued an order that all beasts belonged to him, and that no man should dare to injure them. Then he went to Jalmir, thanked him cordially, and expressed his friendship with an ardent embrace.

The whole kingdom was pleased with the beasts, but Jalmir’s brothers were not pleased.

“What shall we do with him?” asked the eldest of the others. “Instead of getting rid of him we have brought him into still greater favor with the king.”

“But let us go and read again.”

“Yes, yes,” said a third; and all hurried off to the well-known room. They had read a long time when at last one cried out: “The king has no wine, and of course wine costs him money.”

“Then let Jalmir go for it,” answered the eldest, quietly; “and he must get luck from hell if he comes back.”

They went straight to the king, and very insinuatingly they told him that Jalmir might easily supply him with wine.

“Then he will do it;” and dismissing them graciously he had Jalmir summoned, and told him his wish.

“Gracious king,” answered Jalmir, “I know nothing of wine, but I will go and see.”

The king was somewhat angry, thinking surely that Jalmir was unwilling, and thereupon said: “Thou wilt answer to me with thy head.” Jalmir, bowing in silence, went out to the steed.

“Fear not,” said the steed; “in the evening we will go for the wine.” The moment it was dark the kind steed shot away with Jalmir through the air.

“Where are we going this time?” asked Jalmir, a little frightened.

“To the sorceress from whom we got the birds and the beasts. But now pull a hair from my tail, and one from my mane; from the first make a rope three hundred yards long, from the other a net large enough to contain thee.”

Jalmir did in silence according to the steed’s words; and to his astonishment, before they came to the castle the rope and the net were finished.

“Now attend to my words,” said the steed when he had come to the ground. “Tie one end of the rope to my foot and the other to the net, take the net with thee and put it on the door of the cellar, to which thou must go down on three hundred steps. In the cellar thou wilt see vessels with silver and gold and diamond hoops; pay no heed to them, or a blow will fall, and it will be ill with thee. Go to the farthest part of the cellar. There thou wilt see in a niche a little vessel with wooden hoops, take that quickly and hurry to me; but if thou art not able to come, just spring into the net and I will help thee.”

Jalmir did everything according to the words of the steed. It was as clear as white day in the cellar from the silver, gold, and diamond hoops, so that he soon saw the little vessel in the niche; but when he caught it, it is a wonder that he did not fall under its weight. With a mighty effort he carried it to the steps; but there he struck his foot against a vessel, and such a blow fell that the castle trembled from its foundation to the highest points of its tower. Jalmir, however, did not grow weak; he sprang up like an arrow over the three hundred steps and jumped into the net.

Meanwhile, the sorceress flew out of the castle and sprang at the steed; but the steed got her down, and so thrashed her with his feet that he did not leave a sound bone in her body. At the same time he wound up the rope so nicely that in a little while he had drawn up the net containing Jalmir. “Sit quickly on me,” said he. Jalmir mounted in a moment, keeping the vessel carefully in his arms. The steed rose in the air and flew like lightning, because the sorceress who had picked herself from the ground was chasing him. But soon they had the boundary of the castle land behind them, so that they had no further need to strain their powers.

When they reached home the steed was drooping wearily to the earth, so that Jalmir had to support him in going to the stable. Jalmir was barely able to go to his own room; but first, according to the command of the steed, he left the cask of wine at the door of the king’s chamber, then he lay on his bed and was soon asleep.

When the king opened the door of his chamber in the morning he saw the cask. “This must be wine,” said the king, rejoicing; and taking off the head, he tried it. “It’s wine; it’s wine!” rejoiced he; and calling the people of the castle, he drank a health with them all.

“But what is this?” wondered they; “we have taken ten kegs of wine out already, and still it comes.”

“This must be an enchanted cask,” said the king, and began to laugh. Then he said in serious tones: “Little cask, I should like to have red wine.” He drew some. And what a wonder! the wine was red. “I want yellow wine,” said the king; and yellow wine flowed out.

“In real fact, it is an enchanted cask,” said the king. “Oh, Jalmir,” cried he in delight, “how can I reward thee!”

“I have only obeyed thy command, gracious king,” answered Jalmir, who had just entered the room.

“Yes, thou hast done all that I commanded, and much more,” said the king; “therefore I make thee my son, and proclaim thee viceroy.”

All present broke out in tumultuous shouting, but Jalmir’s brothers were silent; they bit their lips and clinched their fists. The king, altogether joyous and full of tenderness, from success and from wine, arranged to have a seven day’s celebration in honor of the new viceroy. The people did not wait to have the order repeated, but began that very day, especially since they had plenty of food, and the wine which the enchanted cask gave them without stint. The new viceroy was greeted everywhere with shouts, and won at once the love of the people.

But his brothers were enraged all the more. Instead of going to the festivities they went to the room where the books were, and read as diligently as if they wished to become sages at once. This time, however, they were not able to find anything for a great while; but at last they read what they wanted.

“Now I have something for our darling viceroy!” cried one. “In the sea is a golden castle, and in the castle a princess, the most beautiful under the heavens. If our king would take her in marriage, he would grow young and lengthen his life.”

“Oh, that is splendid!” said all, rejoicing. “The king will surely send him for the princess, and darling Jalmir will either be drowned in the sea or run home to his father.”

When the feasting was over the brothers went to the king, who was, as it were, ill,—just the thing for them. “Gracious king,” said the eldest, insinuatingly, “we are always trying to prepare some pleasure for thee.”

“Indeed, I have need of it,” said the king; “old age and disease are pressing me more and more every day.”

“We have just found a remedy for those two evils,” said the brothers.

“But what is it,—tell me!” broke out the king, delighted. They told him what they had read.

“Well, Jalmir must take the road this very day,” cried the king; and calling Jalmir he explained his wish. Jalmir agreed in silence, but scarcely controlling his tears, hastened to his steed and fell on his neck, weeping.

“What is the matter now?” asked the steed. Jalmir told him all.

“Do not lose courage,” said the horse. “Go to the king, and ask him to give thee three hundred loaves of bread, three hundred kegs of wine, and three hundred beeves. Have all put into wagons, and then we will go for the princess.”

Jalmir went straightway to the king and asked for these. The king had all provided quickly, and promised him mountains and valleys if he would bring the princess. Jalmir took the road that very day, sitting on his good white steed, which this time did not fly through the air, but walked with slow step behind the wagons on which the loaves, the wine, and the beeves were carried. And many times did day and night change places before they came to the sea. Now they went along the shore; the white steed, going ahead with Jalmir, showed the road to the wagons.

Jalmir saw a great fish on the beach which was trying in vain to get back to the water. “Help it,” said the steed; and Jalmir, springing to the ground, helped the fish.

The fish sank under the water, but soon came to the surface and said to Jalmir: “Wait, I must reward thee. Take this whistle, and shouldst thou need aught from me, blow.”

Jalmir took the whistle from the fish’s lips, gave thanks, and sat again on his steed. After a time they heard as it were distant thunder. “What is that?” asked he of the horse.

“We shall soon be at the end of our journey,” said the steed; “those are giants talking.”

In a short time Jalmir saw three giants lying on the beach. When he came up they rose, and now he saw their stature. When he looked in their faces he had to bend back his head as if looking at the highest tower.

“What is the good word?” roared one of them, so that Jalmir had to cover his ears.

“I bring three hundred loaves of bread, three hundred kegs of wine, and three hundred slaughtered oxen,” answered he.

“That is good of thee,” said the giants, nodding their heads with satisfaction; and they rushed to the wagons in which the things were placed. They built a fire, and stuck the oxen on great spits to roast; then they went to the bread and wine, and soon had half inside themselves. A great eagle settled down near by, and looked wistfully at the beeves. Jalmir cut off a quarter and gave it to the eagle.

“Thank thee!” said the eagle. “I will help thee in time;” and she rose in the air with the quarter.

The giants did not leave the oxen very long over the fire; and when they had finished, they said to Jalmir: “Now tell us thy wish; well do we know that ye little worms of the earth do nothing for nothing.”

“I have no wish for myself,” said Jalmir; “but my master has sent me to bring the princess from the golden castle which stands out in the sea.”

“That one over there?” asked the other giant, pointing with his finger to the sea.

Jalmir looked around and saw for the first time a magnificent castle, which gleamed in the waves like the rising sun. “Yes,” replied Jalmir.

“We will take thee to it,” said the first giant; “but will the princess go with thee?”

“I will ask her,” said Jalmir; “but how will ye take me there?”

“Thou wilt soon see,” said the giants; and they took pieces of a cliff and hurled them into the sea. They went on breaking the cliff, and sooner than Jalmir expected there was a long stretch of dam in the sea. But the giants did not stop; they worked till the setting of the sun, so that in the evening they had one third of the dam finished, and on the third day it was possible to go with dry foot to the golden castle.

Jalmir thanked the giants heartily, and the morning of the fourth day he went to the princess. The castle was a wonder to look at; but he scarcely noticed it. He entered, and how surprised was he when in the first chamber he saw the princess. With downcast eyes he said: “My king and master has sent me to beg thee in his name to share his throne and crown.”

“I will go,” answered the princess, with a silvery voice; “but wilt thou remain at his court?”

“I must,” said Jalmir. “I am the viceroy.”

“Let us go, then,” said the princess.

She mounted a splendid crow-black horse, Jalmir his white steed, and they galloped along the dam. On the way Jalmir took courage to look at the princess more closely, and thought that the king would grow younger, and lengthen his life, if the princess would marry him. At the same time he felt a certain agreeable straitening of the heart. He bent his head, and rode in silence at the side of the princess; and the nearer he came to the castle of the king, the more did trouble take hold of his heart. The more joyous, however, was the princess; and her eyes rested on him with a certain special delight. They arrived soon without great adventure.

The king went outside the town to meet them, and conducted them in solemn procession to the castle. “Art thou willing, honored princess, to become my spouse?” asked he of the princess when he had led her to the chambers prepared for her.

“First I must have my golden castle,” replied the princess.

The king was amazed; but he bethought himself soon, and turned to Jalmir, gazing imploringly.

“I will go for it,” said Jalmir, with decision, especially when the princess nodded graciously and smiled at him.

“Go, my dear Jalmir,” said the king, with a soft voice. “I will reward thee in kings’ fashion.”

Jalmir went to the white steed for advice, and the steed said: “Tell the king to give thee three hundred loaves of bread, three hundred kegs of wine, and three hundred slaughtered oxen; then we will go for the golden castle.”

Jalmir told the king his wishes, and the king gave him all. Everything was ready so soon that Jalmir was able to set out that very day. But it was a tedious journey; the wagons went slowly, and after them Jalmir still more slowly, and with drooping head,—why, he knew best himself. When they came to the giants, Jalmir gave them the loaves, the wine, and the meat, begging them urgently to bring the golden castle to the princess.

“Ah, little worm of the earth!” said the giants, laughing, “dost thou think that the castle is made of wood? but we will try,” added they after they had looked at the three hundred loaves, at the kegs and the oxen.

They began eating, and when they had eaten heartily, they went to a neighboring forest, where they pulled up three of the strongest trees; and when they had played with them as men play with canes, they went along the dam to the golden castle. After a short time they moved the castle from its foundations, put it on the oak-trees, and then on to their shoulders; and as if it were nothing they walked after Jalmir without weariness till night, when they slept, and next morning went farther. They worked in this way till they drew near the king’s castle; they did not go to it, however, but waited till night. Then they put the golden castle in the garden, bade farewell to Jalmir, and went home.

When the morning sun rose people shouted “Fire!” in the castle. All ran to the garden to put it out; but the princess standing in her window cried, “Be quiet! That is my golden castle.”

Soon after the king hurried in, and opening his arms in delight, wished to embrace the princess, calling out, “Now thou art mine!”

“Not yet,” answered the princess. “What is my golden castle to me if I have lost the key of it?”

The king was frightened; but soon he said, with clear face: “My dear Jalmir will bring it to thee.” He wanted to go for him; but Jalmir came just then to the princess to tell her that he had brought the castle. The king told his wish; and Jalmir, gaining pleasure and strength from a gracious smile of the princess, departed. He took counsel of his steed, who said: “The key is somewhere in the sea near the dam.” Jalmir mounted; they flew through the air, and were soon on the island where the castle had been.

“But how shall I find the key in the sea?” sighed Jalmir.

“Thou hast the whistle from the fish helped by thee into the water.”

“Yes,” rejoiced Jalmir; and he blew on the whistle.

That moment the fish swam to the surface, and asked, “What dost thou wish?”

“The princess has lost the key of her golden castle,” answered Jalmir, who was about to ask the fish to find it; but the fish had already vanished to tell all fish to look for the key. Now there was life under water,—such gleaming of fish flying hither and thither, up and down! till at last after long swimming, one little fish brought the key to the chief fish. The chief fish gave it to Jalmir; Jalmir gave heartfelt thanks, and was soon flying through the air on his steed, so that he was home before night. When he had given the key to the king he went to his room and shut himself in. Why he did this he knew not himself; but he felt that it would have been better for him had he never seen that princess of the golden castle.

The king, perfectly happy, went with the key to the princess; he felt sure this time that she would make no objection. All the greater was his grief when she said: “I have the castle and the key to it; but what would life be in the castle without the water of death, the water of life, and the water of youth?”

“And where are they to be found?” asked the king.

“They are on my island,” answered the princess so decidedly that the king went away in silence to think whom he should send. He had pity on Jalmir, and therefore he went to the brothers; but they spoke to him so convincingly that the king asked Jalmir again to go and do that last service for him. How could Jalmir refuse? Besides, what he had done he had done for her for whom he would have jumped into fire if need be. He went to his steed to ask aid once more, and for the last time. The steed reproached him for lack of courage, and said: “Sit on my back; we’ll go straight for the water.” Jalmir did so with joy, and was soon going through the air to the island swifter than ever he had travelled before. In a short time the horse came down on the sea-shore and said: “Go to the island for the water of death, the water of life, and the water of youth; but hurry, or the waves will wash down the dam and thou wilt perish. I will eat grass here a while.”

Jalmir went forward, but very slowly; for the image of the princess rose continually before his eyes. Except her, the whole world was as naught to him. He was perhaps half way on the dam when all at once the sea rose and bore it away. Jalmir screamed in terror and disappeared in the sea. The steed heard his screams, but did not run to help him, and hanging his head, went with slow step; he knew well that he could give no aid to Jalmir. Then came a terrible storm on the sea. The steed thought that Jalmir had perished; he rose in the air and shot away like a flash.

Not far from the dam—of which there was not a trace after the storm—was an eagle’s nest high on the cliff, and in it five little eagles that stretched out their necks, without ceasing looking down eagerly, and crying meanwhile. “What do ye want?” called the old eagle, which sat near by on a cliff and looked down. But how quickly did she fly to the beach when she saw a body there! She recognized it at once; for though she was only a wild creature she remembered well that Jalmir had done her a kindness by giving her the quarter of beef for her young. She seized him now in her strong talons and bore him to the island where the golden castle had been; she plunged him into a spring, then placing him on the ground, sat near his side. Soon Jalmir began to breathe,—at first with difficulty and slowly, then more quickly and evenly, till at last he opened his eyes with a deep sigh. “Why not let me sleep longer?—I slept so lightly! I dreamed so sweetly!” said Jalmir, as if waking from slumber. When he looked around more attentively he called out in amazement, “What has been done to me?”

“Dost thou not know me?” asked the eagle, standing before him.

“I do not know thee,” replied Jalmir, shaking his head.

“But I know thee well,” cried the eagle. “Thou didst give me a quarter of beef for my children. But what art thou looking for now?”

“The princess sent me to this island for the water of death, the water of life, and the water of youth,” answered Jalmir.

“Then take them,” said the eagle, and brought him to the three springs. Jalmir took three flasks from his bosom, and filled them with the three waters.

“But how shall I leave here?”

“I would gladly bear thee wherever thou wishest, but I cannot, for I have children; but I will go to my brother. He has no children.” She flew off in a flash, soon returning, and with her her brother.

“But where has my white steed gone?” asked Jalmir suddenly.

“I will soon tell thee,” answered the eagle, and she rose in the sky till she seemed to the eye of Jalmir as small as the point of a pine leaf. She remained motionless a moment, then came down like a bolt and said: “I saw thy steed under the old pear-tree which stands before the southern gate of the great town.”

“Bear me to that place then,” said Jalmir, with a voice of entreaty.

The eagle’s brother caught him in his strong talons, and was soon flying with him high in the air; so high that Jalmir saw his native place, but it was as small as an ant-hill. He went farther, it became greater, till at last the eagle came to the earth and put Jalmir down near the old pear-tree; then he parted with him, and soon vanished in the air.

The white steed was standing behind the pear-tree, with drooping head, and so gloomy that he did not notice his master.

“My very good steed!” cried Jalmir, and fell on his neck.

“Thou art alive and well?” asked the steed in amazement.

“Yes,” answered Jalmir, and told him all that had happened.

“I am happy,” said the steed; “but now sit quickly on me, we must go to the princess or we shall be late.”

“What is the matter?” asked Jalmir in fright.

“The king wants the wedding to-day,” answered the steed.

“Then let us hurry,” said Jalmir, and he sprang on the steed, opened his arms toward the town, and cried: “Oh, my dear father!”

“Calm thyself,” said the steed; “I know that thou wouldst embrace him; but vain is thy wish, for he died long ago.” The steed rose in the air and flew so swiftly that his native place soon vanished from the tearful eyes of Jalmir. On the road the steed said: “When thou art king, judge justly, even if thy heart has to bleed.”

Jalmir did not understand him; but when he came to the town and heard how his brothers were laughing at their puny little Jalmir who had perished somewhere, an evil feeling seized him. Mastering himself however, he went to the princess to give her the three waters; and she hastened to the king to whom she said: “My dear bridegroom, so that our marriage be equal, thou must become young and beautiful as I am, and therefore I will rub thee with the water of death so that thy old age shall perish, then with the water of youth, and last with the water of life.”

The king consented with gladness, and the princess rubbed him with the water of death; then he straightened himself on the couch so that the princess herself was terrified. Seizing quickly the water of youth; she rubbed him with it and the fresh color of youth shone on the face of the old king. “But still he is not so beautiful as Jalmir,” sighed the princess, greatly grieved. With tearful eyes she reached for the water of life, but instead of it took the water of death and rubbed the king. Straightway the pallor of death spread over his face. The princess fell in a faint at his side and remained in it till Jalmir came by chance to the chamber, seized the water of life, and rubbed with it quickly the princess and the king. The princess stood up at once, but the king remained dead.

“Is there no help for him?” asked Jalmir with trembling voice.

“There is not,” said the princess, shaking her head; “whoever is rubbed twice with the water of death can never live again.”

“But what shall I do now?” muttered Jalmir, closing his eyes.

“Thou art king,” answered the princess, “but I—”

“Queen!” cried Jalmir eagerly, and sank at her feet saying, “Forgive me, but I love thee more than myself.”

The princess in place of an answer kissed him; and now they went to announce to the people that the old king was dead.

The people, who had already assembled in the square for the wedding of the king, were greatly distressed; but when the princess presented Jalmir as the new king, and herself as his wife, they broke out into mighty rejoicing, which had no end. But Jalmir’s brothers were silent; and when the new king with his bride retired, they reported that these two had poisoned the old king. The people raised a tumult; but Jalmir went out among them and asked the cause. Some were silent, and others told him what his brothers had said. “Do ye believe this?” asked Jalmir.

“We do not believe,” was shouted from every side.

“Very well,” answered Jalmir, “but that ye may believe me I will tell how my brothers tried to kill me;” and he told them all.

“The wretches!” cried the people in a rage; and they caught all the six brothers. Before Jalmir could stop them the people had fired a stack of straw, and when it was blazing high they threw the six brothers into the flames.

“Now ye are all in one pile,” laughed the people, “because hitherto ye were always setting fire.”

Jalmir turned to the princess with tears in his eyes, but she soon consoled him. After the funeral of the old king they celebrated their betrothal; but when Jalmir, full of happiness, sat at the feast by the side of his bride, all at once he remembered his steed, ran to him, and fell on his neck thanking him as author of all his happiness.

“I have helped thee, do thou help me now,” said the steed. “Lead me to the garden.” Jalmir did as he desired; then the steed said: “Cut off my head.”

“I cut off thy head!” cried Jalmir in fright.

“Wilt thou let me suffer one hundred years longer?” asked the steed in a sad voice.

In place of an answer Jalmir drew his sword, and with one blow cut off his friend’s head. The head fell on the ground, but out of it flew a white dove which rose toward the sky. Jalmir turned in sorrow to the princess, but she soon drove the sadness away from his face. They lived happily together, and because they had the water of life, they lived so long that no one has memory of it.

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