VI.
Six years later there were windows in the White House from which one could obtain a fine view of the village and the surrounding country. The sailors had begun to make the House a resting-place on their way down the stream. The mistress was well and merry, and her great joy was a beautiful little daughter who led her blind father about.
The country-folk, who had fled in terror from the miserable man, now came up to him in friendship, when they saw him blind and taking a walk led by his little daughter. The former stillness departed. The servants filled the once empty halls of the White House.
Old Stanislas had on that terrible day buried his master’s eyes in the garden. One day he wondered what had become of them, and whether he could find them. So he dug for them. All of a sudden the eyes glared on him with a bright light. Hardly had the glance fallen on his face when he stumbled and, falling to the ground, died.
That was the first time the evil eyes had done him hurt, and it was the last time their power was exerted. They had done him no hurt while his master kept them, because, as he loved his servant, his heart had destroyed their power. Now they were in the earth they had acquired power for fresh evil, and killed the honest old man!
His blind master sorrowed long for him, and over his grave he placed a fine cross, near which the sailors often offered up a prayer when they landed at the White House.
THE SEVEN BROTHERS.
Once upon a time there lived an old man and an old woman, who had been married many years and had no children, and when they were yet old they prayed to God to give them a child who might help them in their work as they advanced in years. Their prayer was heard. When seven years had passed the old woman gave birth to seven sons, and they were all called Simeon. When the children were ten years old the old man and his wife died, and the sons began to till his ground.
It chanced that one day the Czar Ados came past, and, seeing them working in the fields, he was astonished to see such little fellows doing such work. He sent one of his nobles to ask whose children they were. So the noble came to them and asked who they were who worked so hard. The eldest Simeon told him that they were orphans and had no one to work for them. As for their names they were all called Simeon.
When the Czar got back to the palace he called together all his nobles and asked them their opinion, saying—
“My lords, there are seven orphans who have no kinsfolk. I will make them such men that they shall be grateful to me. Now, I want your advice as to what trade or art I shall have them taught.”
Then all answered—
“Gracious sire, since they are old enough and have ability, we think it would be best to ask each of them what trade or art he wishes to learn.”
The Czar was pleased with this advice, and asked the eldest Simeon—
“Tell me, friend, what trade or art would you like to learn? I will see that you are instructed in it.”
The lad answered—
“May it please your majesty, I wish to learn no art, but if you will order a smithy to be built in the middle of your court, I will smithy a column which shall reach to heaven.”
The Czar saw that this Simeon required no teaching, since he was such a smith, for he showed him very costly work, but he did not believe that he would be able to smithy a column that should reach to heaven. However, he ordered a place to be built in the middle of his yard, and the eldest Simeon set to work.
Then the Czar asked the second Simeon—
“And you, my friend, what art will you learn?”
“Your majesty,” said he, “I do not wish to learn any business or trade, but when my brother has finished the column, I will stand on the top of it, look around into all the countries, and let you know what is passing in each of them.”
The Czar perceived that there was no need to teach this lad anything, since he was so clever already.
Then he said to the third Simeon—
“What business or what art will you learn?”
“Your majesty,” said he, “I do not wish to learn either handiwork or art, but if my eldest brother will make me an axe, I will build a ship in an instant.”
“Such a man do I want,” said the Czar. “You, too, have nothing to learn.”
“And you,” said the Czar to the fourth Simeon, “what handiwork or what art do you wish to learn?”
“Your majesty,” said he, “I do not wish to learn anything, but, when my brother has finished his ship, and it is attacked by the enemy, I will seize it by the prow, carry it to the underground kingdom, and, when the enemy is gone, I will put it again on the sea.”
The Czar was very much astonished, and said—
“You, too, have nothing to learn.”
Then he spoke to the fifth brother—
“And you, Simeon, what handiwork or what art will you learn?”
“I want to learn nothing, your majesty,” said he, “but if my eldest brother will make me a gun, I will shoot with it any bird that flies, however far off it be, so that I am able to see it.”
“You will be an excellent sportsman,” said the Czar.
Then he asked the sixth brother—
“Well, Simeon, what art do you wish to learn?”
“I wish to learn no art, your majesty,” said he, “but if my fifth brother shoots a bird, I will catch it before it comes to the ground and bring it to your majesty.”
“That is very clever,” said the Czar. “You will do instead of a dog in the field.”
Then the Czar asked the last brother—
“And you, Simeon, what handiwork or art will you learn?”
“I want to learn neither handiwork nor art, your majesty,” replied he, “for I already know a precious art.”
“What is it,” asked the Czar, “that is so good?”
“I am so skilful at stealing,” said he, “that no one can beat me at it.”
When the Czar heard that the lad was acquainted with such a wicked art, he was angry, and said to his nobles—
“My lords, let me have your advice as to how this thief, Simeon, should be punished. What death should he die?”
“Your majesty,” said they all, “why should he die? It is not unlikely, since he is such a clever thief, that he may prove useful in some case.”
“How so?” asked the Czar.
“Your majesty,” said they, “has during the last ten years sought the hand of the Czarina, the beautiful Helena, in vain, and lost many armies and much treasure. Now this thief, Simeon, may devise some means of stealing the Czarina for your Majesty.”
“You say well, my friends,” observed the Czar, and he went and said to the thief—
“Now, Simeon, can you wander over seven and twenty countries into the thirtieth and steal for me the beautiful princess, Helena? I love her very much, and if you procure her for me you shall be well rewarded.”
“We will see to it,” said he, “you have but to command.”
“I do not merely command,” said the Czar, “but I beg of you not to remain longer at my court, but to take what armies you wish to effect your purpose.”
“I do not want either your armies or your treasure,” said the thief. “Only send all of us together, for I can do nothing without the others.”
The Czar did not wish for all the brothers to go, but though he thought it hard, he was obliged to consent.
In the meantime the eldest brother had completed the iron column in the smithy in the court of the palace. The second brother climbed up to the top, and from there he saw the kingdom of the fair Helena’s father. He called out to the Czar Ados—
“Your majesty, beyond twenty-seven countries in the thirtieth there sits, at a window, the Czarina, the beautiful Helena. How fair she is! One can see every blue vein in her white skin.”
Then the Czar was more in love with her than ever, and cried out to the Simeons—
“My friends, set out as quickly as you can and return soon. I can live no longer without the beautiful Helena.”
The eldest Simeon smithied a gun for the third brother, and carried bread for the journey. The thief took with him a cat, and so they set out. Now the thief had so trained the cat that it ran after him everywhere, just like a dog, and when he stood still it stood by him, on its hind-legs, rubbing against him and purring. So they went on till they came to the shore of a sea over which they must pass. For a long time they walked about on the shore and looked for wood, in order to build a ship, and at last they came to a great oak. The third brother took his axe and cut away at the root. The oak was brought to the ground, and a ship was in a moment built from it, filled with all kinds of precious things. The brothers entered the ship and sailed away.
After some months they came to the place they sought, and cast anchor in the harbour. The next day the thief, taking his cat, went into the town, and, coming to the Czar’s palace, stood in front of the Princess Helena’s window. His cat at once stood up on its hind-legs and began to rub itself against him, and to purr. Now a cat had never before been seen in that kingdom, nor, indeed, had the people knowledge that there was any such animal.
The princess sat at the window, and, when she saw the cat, she sent out her servants and maids to ask Simeon if he would sell it, and if so, what he wanted for it. The servants came to Simeon, and asked him what kind of animal the cat was, and whether he would sell it.
“Tell her majesty, the beautiful Helena,” said the thief, “that the animal is called a cat. I cannot sell it, but, if her majesty pleases, I desire the honour of making her a present of it.”
The attendants took the message to the princess, who, when she heard it, was delighted, and coming out of her chamber she asked Simeon why he would not sell the cat.
“I cannot sell the cat, your majesty,” said he, “but, if you please, I will give it to you.”
The princess took the cat in her arms, and going back to her apartment, told Simeon to follow. When they were in the palace, she went to her father, the Czar Say, showed him the cat, and told him that a stranger had given it to her. The Czar was very much pleased with the strange animal, and ordered that the thief Simeon should be brought to him. When he came, the Czar wished to give him treasures in return for the cat, but, as Simeon refused all, the Czar said to him: “My friend, stay for a while in my palace. The cat will become more familiar to my daughter if you are here.”
Simeon, however, did not wish to stay, and said—
“It would give me the greatest pleasure, your majesty, to stay in your palace if I had not a ship in which I came to your country, and which I can leave in charge of no one. If, however, your majesty wishes it, I will come every day to the palace, and get the cat accustomed to your daughter.”
So the Czar ordered him to come. Simeon went every day to the beautiful Princess Helena, and one day he said to her—
“Gracious lady, I have come a long while to you, but I have noticed that you never go out. Would you not like to see my vessel? I could show you fine goods, gold-stuff, and diamonds, such as you have never seen.”
The princess went away to her father, and begged his permission for her to take a walk on the quay. The Czar gave it her, but told her to take her attendants and maids with her. So the princess went with Simeon. When they had come to the quay, Simeon invited the princess on board his vessel, and, calling his brothers to show her all the various goods, he said, after a time—
“Tell your servants and maids to leave the ship so that I can show you some costly things they must not see.”
So the princess bade them leave the vessel. When she was alone, the thief ordered his brothers to cut the cable, set all sail, and put out to sea. In the meanwhile he amused the princess, showing her the things, and giving presents to her. So they spent several hours examining the goods. At last the princess told him that it was time for her to go home, as the Czar would be expecting her. But when she went up out of the cabin, she saw that the vessel was already far out at sea, and that she was far away from the coast. Then she beat upon her breast, changed herself to a swan, and flew upwards; but the fifth Simeon, seizing his gun, shot at her, and the sixth caught her as she was falling into the water and brought her to the vessel. The princess became a young woman once more.
The attendants and maids, who had gone to the quay with the princess, and had seen the ship sail away with her, told the Czar of the trick Simeon had played them, and he ordered that all his fleet should go in pursuit. It had come near to Simeon’s vessel, when the fourth brother laid hold of the vessel by the prow and dragged it off to the underground kingdom. The sailors of the fleet saw the vessel vanish, and they thought that it had sunk with the beautiful princess; so, going back to the Czar Say, they told him of the ship’s disappearance.
The brothers came safely home, and led the fair Princess Helena to the Czar Ados, who gave the Simeons, in reward for their great service, their freedom and much gold, silver, and many precious stones. And he lived with the princess for many years, prosperous and happy.
SILA CZAROVITCH AND IVASCHKA.
There was once upon a time a Czar called Chotei, who had three sons. The first was called Aspe, the second Adam, and the third, the youngest, Sila. The elder brothers came to their father and asked him to let them go and travel in other countries, so that they might see the world and learn how things were. The Czar gave them his permission, and let them each have a vessel in which they might sail. Then the youngest brother came to the Czar and asked him to let him go with his brothers.
“My dear son,” said the Czar, “you are too young to bear the fatigues of a journey. Stop here then at home, and do not think of going abroad.”
Sila, however, wished very much to see the strange countries, and so wearied his father with his prayers, that at last he gave him his permission to go, and let him have a vessel also. As soon as the three brothers were on board their ships they set sail. When they came to the open sea, however, the eldest brother’s vessel went on first, the second brother’s next, and Sila’s came last.
As they sailed, the third day there came floating past them a coffin with iron bands. The two eldest brothers saw it, but did not pick it up. When Sila, however, saw it, he gave orders to his sailors to secure it, bring it on board, and bury it when they came to a suitable spot. On the following day a great storm came on, and Sila’s ship, being driven out of its proper course, drifted to the steep shores of an unknown land. When they arrived there, Sila ordered the sailors to carry the coffin on shore, and he followed it himself and saw it buried in the earth.
Sila then told the ship’s master to stop where the vessel was for three years, waiting for him. If he did not come back at the end of that time, he told the man he was to sail away. Then Sila took leave of his captain and his men, and went away following his eyes. For a long time he went on and met no one. On the third day, however, he heard a man running after him, clothed in white. When he saw that the man was coming up to him, he drew his sword, fearing that the stranger might intend to do him some hurt. But when the man came up to him, he fell down at his feet, and began to thank him for having rescued him. Sila, not understanding what he meant, asked him why he thanked him, and what good service he had done him. The unknown sprang to his feet, and said—
“Sila Czarovitch, how can I ever repay you? There I lay in my coffin, which you took on board and buried on the land, and so was I rescued from the sea.”
“How came you in the coffin?” asked Sila.
“I will tell you all,” said the man. “I was once a great magician, and my mother, fearing that I did a great deal of harm to folk by my magic, confined me in the coffin, and turned me out upon the sea. I have been floating for over a hundred years, and no one ever picked me up. You I have to thank for my deliverance, and in return for it I will aid you in any way I can. Tell me, do you not wish to marry? If you do, I know the beautiful Queen Truda, who would make you a worthy wife.”
Sila told him that if the queen were beautiful he would be content to marry her. Ivaschka, in the white grave-clothes, assured him that she was the most beautiful woman in all the world, and Sila, when he heard that, asked his companion to go with him to her country. So they went on together.
Now Queen Truda’s kingdom was surrounded by a fence with posts, and on every post, save one, was a man’s head. When Sila saw that he was alarmed, and asked Ivaschka what it meant.
“Those,” said Ivaschka, “are the heads of the warriors who came to ask the Queen Truda to marry them.”
Sila was afraid when he heard that, and wished himself back again in his own kingdom. He did not wish to go on and see the father of the queen, but Ivaschka told him he had nothing to fear if he went on boldly with him. So Sila and he went on together.
When they had entered the kingdom, Ivaschka said to him—
“Listen, Sila Czarovitch, I will live with you as your servant. When you come to the royal apartments, behave humbly to King Salom. He will ask you where you come from, what country you belong to, who your father is, what is your name, and on what errand you have come. Tell him all, and do not try to conceal anything. Tell him that you have come to ask for his daughter’s hand, and he will give her to you with the greatest joy.”
Sila went into the palace, and when King Salom saw him he came to meet him, took him by the white hands, led him into the white marble room, and said to him—
“Young man, who are you? From what kingdom do you come? Who is your father? What is your name? and why are you come?”
“I have come,” replied Sila, “from the kingdom of the Czar Chotei; I am known as Sila Czarovitch, and I have come here to ask for your daughter, the beautiful Queen Truda, for my wife.”
Then King Salom was very pleased when he heard that the son of so famous a Czar desired to wed his daughter, and he at once sent to her, to tell her to get ready for the wedding. When the day came, the king commanded all the princes and nobles to come to the palace. From there they went to the church, and Sila Czarovitch married the beautiful Queen Truda. The company went back to the palace, seated themselves at table, and ate and drank with great joy.
When evening was come Ivaschka came near to Sila, and said to him softly—
“Listen, Sila Czarovitch. When you retire with your wife, take care you do not say a word to her, or you are a dead man, and your head will find a place on the last post. She will do all she can to make you speak, but do not you say a word to her.”
Sila asked him why he gave him this warning.
“She is,” said Ivaschka, “acquainted with a spirit which flies through the air in the shape of a dragon with six heads. Your wife will lay her hand upon your breast. When she does so, spring up and beat her with a stick till she has no strength left in her. I will myself watch at the door of the room.”
The queen did, as Ivaschka foretold, do all she could to make Sila speak, but he would not utter a word. Then Truda put her hand on his breast, and pressed him, so that he could hardly breathe. Sila jumped up, seized a stick, which Ivaschka had put there for the occasion, and commenced to beat her as if he would kill her. Immediately there came on a terrible storm, and there flew into the room a six-headed dragon who commenced to attack Sila. Then Ivaschka came in with a sharp sword in his hand, and he and the dragon fought together for three hours, when Ivaschka managed to cut off two of the dragon’s heads, and the monster flew away. Ivaschka then told Sila he might go to sleep and fear nothing. So Sila laid him down and slept till morning.
King Salom was anxious respecting his son-in-law, and he sent early in the morning to ask if all was well with him. When he heard that it was, he was delighted, for he remembered the fate of the others who had come to marry his daughter. He summoned Sila to him, and they spent the whole day in merriment.
The next night Ivaschka warned Sila that he must not speak to his wife, and he himself took up his station outside the door of the room. Sila’s wife again tried to make him speak, and again put her hand upon his breast, and Sila leaped up and thrashed her. The dragon flew in and attacked him, but Ivaschka sprang in from the door with the sword in his hand, and after he and the dragon had fought for three hours Ivaschka cut off two more of its heads. Then the dragon flew off and Sila lay down to sleep. The king again sent for Sila to come to him, and they spent the day together very pleasantly.
The third night Ivaschka warned Sila as before, and Sila did as he was bid. Ivaschka again fought with the monster, and, cutting off the two last heads, he burnt them and the carcass, and scattered the ashes over the fields.
So Sila Czarovitch stayed with his father-in-law for a whole year, and then Ivaschka, coming to him one day, told him to ask the king to give him permission to return home. Sila went to King Salom and obtained his leave to go, and the king sent two divisions of his army with him as an escort. So Sila parted with his father-in-law, and set off with his wife for his own land.
When they were half-way home Ivaschka told Sila to stop and camp there. Sila did as he advised, and ordered his tent to be put up. On the next day Ivaschka took some pieces of stick and burnt them in front of the Czarovitch’s tent. Then he came to the tent, led Queen Truda outside, and unsheathing his sword he cut her in two. Sila was greatly terrified, and commenced to weep when he saw that.
“Do not weep,” said Ivaschka, “she will come to life again.”
As soon as the Queen was cut in two there came out of her all manner of evil spirits, and all of these Ivaschka threw into the fire. Then said he to Sila—
“Do you see the evil things which possessed your wife? They are all evil spirits which had entered her.”
When all the evil spirits were destroyed in the fire, he placed the two parts of Truda’s body together, sprinkled them with water from a running brook, and the queen became alive again. She was now also as good as she had before been evil.
Then said Ivaschka to Sila—
“Good-bye, Sila Czarovitch, you will see me no more;” and as soon as he had spoken those words he disappeared.
Sila struck his tent and went on homewards, and when he came to the spot where he had left his ship, he dismissed the troops that accompanied him, went on board with his queen, and set sail. He soon came to his own land, and his arrival there was greeted with the sound of cannon. Czar Chotei came to meet him, and taking him and his wife by their white hands he led them into the white marble room. Then there was a feast prepared, and they ate and drank and were merry. Sila lived with his father two years, and then he went back to the country of his father-in-law, King Salom. He succeeded him on the throne, and reigned with his beautiful Queen Truda, during many years, with much love and happiness.
THE STOLEN HEART.
Once upon a time there stood, on an island in the Vistula, a great castle surrounded by a strong rampart. At each corner was a tower, and from these there waved in the wind many a flag, while the soldiers stood on guard upon them. A bridge connected the island with the banks of the river.
In this castle lived a knight, a brave and famous warrior. When the trumpets sounded from the battlements of the castle, their notes announced that he had returned from victory loaded with booty.
In the deep dungeons of the castle many a prisoner was confined, and they were led out daily to work. They had to keep the ramparts in repair, and to see to the garden. Now among these prisoners was an old woman, who was a sorceress. She swore that she would be revenged upon the knight for his ill-treatment of her, and patiently awaited an opportunity to effect her purpose.
One day the knight came back wearied out with his exertions on one of his warlike excursions. He lay down upon the grass, closed his eyes, and was soon fast asleep.
The witch seized the opportunity. Coming gently to him, she scattered poppy seed on his eyes so that he should sleep the sounder. Then, with an aspen branch, she struck him on the breast over his heart.
The knight’s breast at once opened, so that one could look in and see the heart as it lay there and beat. The sorceress laughed, stretched out her bony arm, and with her long fingers she stole away the heart so quietly that the knight never woke.
Then the woman took a hare’s heart which she had ready, put it in the sleeping man’s breast, and closed up the opening. Going away softly, she hid herself in a thicket, to see the effect of her wicked work.
Before the knight was even awake he began to feel the change that the hare’s heart was making in him. He, who had till now never known fear, quaked and tossed himself uneasily from side to side. When he awoke he felt as if he should be crushed by his armour. The cry of his hounds, as it fell on his ear, filled him with terror.
Once he had loved to hear their deep baying as he followed them in pursuit of the prey in the wild forest, but now he was filled with fear, and fled like a timid hare. As he ran to his room the clang of his armour, the ringing of his silver spurs, the clatter of his spear, filled him with such terror that he threw all aside, and sank exhausted on his bed.
Even in his sleep fear pursued him. Once he dreamed only of battles, and of the prizes of victory, now he trembled as he dreamt. The barking of his dogs, the voices of his soldiers as they paced the ramparts while they watched, made him quake as he lay on his bed, and he buried his head, like a frightened child, in his pillow.
At length there came a body of the knight’s enemies to besiege him in his castle. The knight’s soldiers looked upon their leader, who had so often delighted in the excitement of the camp, and in the victory. In vain they waited for him to lead them forth. The once so brave knight, when he heard the clash of arms, the cry of the men, and the clang of the horses’ hoofs, fled to the topmost chamber of his castle, and from there looked down upon the force which had come against him.
When he recollected his expeditions in the time past, his combats, his victories, he wept bitterly, and cried out aloud—
“O Heaven! give me now courage, give me the old strength of heart and vigour. My men have already gone to the field, and I, who used to lead them, now, like a girl, look through the highest loophole upon my enemies. Give me my old boldness, that I may take my arms again; make me what I was once, and bless me with victory.”
These thoughts, as it were, awakened him from a dream. He went again into his chamber, put on his armour, leaped upon his horse, and rode outside the castle gate. The soldiers saw him come with joy, and sounded the trumpets. The knight went on, but in his secret soul he was afraid, and when his men gallantly threw themselves upon the enemy, deadly fear came over him, and he turned and fled.
Even when he was once more in his stronghold, when the mighty walls held him safe within them, fear did not leave him. He sprang from his horse, fled to an innermost chamber, and there, quite unmanned, awaited inglorious death.
His men had triumphed over the foe, and the salutations of the guards announced their victorious return. All wondered at the flight of their leader at such a time. They looked for him, and discovered him half dead in a deep cellar.
The unfortunate knight did not live long. During the winter he tried to warm his quaking limbs by the fireside of his castle. When spring came he would open his window that he might breathe the fresh air, and one day it chanced a swallow, that had built its nest in a hole of the roof, struck him on the head with its wing. The blow was fatal. As if he had been struck by lightning, the knight fell down upon the ground, and in a short while died.
All his men mourned for their good master. They knew not what had changed him, but about a year later, when some sorceresses were being put to the ordeal for having kept off the rain, one of them confessed that she had taken the knight’s heart, and put in his breast a hare’s heart in its place. Then the men knew how it was that a man who had formerly been so bold of heart had become so fearful. They mourned his misfortune, and, taking the witch to his grave, there they burnt her alive.
PRINCE SLUGOBYL.
There was once upon a time a king who had an only son named Slugobyl. The young prince was very fond of travelling, and when he was twenty years of age he begged his father and mother so much to let him go to see the world, that they gave him their consent, giving him as an attendant an old servant on whose fidelity they thought they could rely. The prince, well equipped and armed, mounted his horse, and, after having taken a tender leave, set off to distant countries in the hope of acquiring knowledge and returning wiser, and more fitted to rule.
As he rode along he saw a cygnet pursued by an eagle, which threatened to overtake it every moment. The prince seized his bow, and shot so well that the eagle, mortally wounded, fell at his feet. The cygnet seeing this stopped in its flight, and said to the prince—
“Prince Slugobyl, it is not a poor cygnet that thanks you, but the daughter of the Invisible Prince, who, changed into this shape, sought refuge from the pursuit of the giant Koshchei. My father will reward you for this good action. Remember when you have need of him, you have only to speak these words thrice—‘Invisible Prince, come to me.’”
When it had thus spoken, the cygnet flew away, and the prince, having watched it till it was out of sight, continued his journey. He went on for a long time until he found himself in the midst of a plain scorched up by the heat of the sun. Not a tree, not a bush, not even a plant, was to be seen. No bird flew by, no insect broke the stillness with its hum. Everything seemed as if it had been stricken with death by the sun’s rays. The prince, after having travelled some hours on this plain, began to feel very thirsty, so he sent his servant off to see if he could find some spring or well at which he could alight. By good luck the servant found a well, very deep, and containing plenty of fresh water, but there was nothing by means of which they could draw the water up. What should they do? At length the prince said—
“Take the cord with which we secure our horses and fasten it around you, and then I will let you down into the well, for I am nearly dead with thirst.”
“My prince,” answered the servant, “I am heavier than you, and you are not so strong as I am. If I go down you will never be able to draw me up again. It would be better for you to go down the well, and then I can pull you up when you have drunk as much as you wish.”
The prince thought the advice good, and the servant tied the cord under his arms, and let him down into the well. When he had drunk as much as he wished, he got some of the water for his servant, and then he pulled the cord as a signal for him to draw him up. Instead of doing so, however, the servant looked down and said to him—
“Listen to me, prince. Since the day of your birth up to the present time you have had everything you wished for, while I have undergone great misery, and have slaved all my life. Now we will change places. Take your choice. Will you be my servant? If not, pray Heaven to have mercy on you, for I shall leave you to drown.”
“Stop, my good servant,” said the prince, “don’t do that, I beg you. What good would it do you? You would never find so good a position as you have with me, and you know that murderers meet with a dreadful fate in the next world. Their hands are plunged in boiling pitch, their shoulders are scourged with red-hot iron, and their necks are sawn with wooden saws.”
“I do not care for all that,” said the servant, “but I know that I shall drown you unless you consent.”
And he commenced to loosen the cord.
“Well then,” said the prince, “I agree to what you ask. You shall be my prince and I will be your servant. I pledge you my word.”
“I don’t believe in words,” cried the servant, “which the wind blows away. Swear to me that you will confirm the promise in writing.”
“I swear it,” said the prince.
The servant let down a paper and pencil, and dictated the following words—
“I declare that I renounce my name and all my rights in favour of him who carries this paper, and that I take him for my prince, and will serve him.
Signed, in the well—
Prince Slugobyl.”
The servant, who was unable to read, took the paper, drew the prince up out of the well, and then changed clothes with him. Thus disguised, the two went on for a week, until they entered a large town and came to the palace of the king. The false prince sent his companion to see to the horses, while he presented himself boldly to the king, and said to him—
“I am come, sire, to ask the hand of your beautiful and wise daughter, whose fame has spread even to my father’s court. If you consent I assure you of our friendship, but if you refuse we shall make war with you.”
“The request and the threat are alike unseasonable,” said the king. “Listen, prince; I am willing to show my respect for the king, your father, by granting his request, on one condition. Our enemies, enraged against us, have assembled a large army, and now threaten our town. If you deliver us, my daughter is yours.”
“Very well,” replied the false prince, “I will utterly destroy the hostile army. Let them come as near as possible to the town. I promise you that I will acquit myself so well, that to-morrow morning you shall find no traces of them.”
When it was evening, he called his pretended servant to him from his lodging in the stables, and, when the prince had respectfully saluted him, said—
“Listen, my friend. Go out at once and destroy the hostile army which is encamped outside the city, and do it so that folk will think that I am the vanquisher. In return for this service, I promise to give you back the writing by which you agree to let me have your title and to serve me.”
The prince put on his armour, jumped on his horse, and, going out of the town, called thrice on the Invisible Prince.
“Here I am,” said a voice close to him. “What do you wish? I will do whatever you tell me, for it was you who saved my daughter from Koshchei, and that is a service I shall never forget.”
Prince Slugobyl showed him the army he wished destroyed. The Invisible Prince whistled, and said—
“Magical horse with the golden mane, come to me, not on the ground but through the air, quick as an arrow, nimble as the lightning’s flash.”
That moment, in the midst of a whirlwind of smoke, there came a magnificent horse of an iron grey colour, and with a golden mane. It flew like the wind. Fire came from its nostrils. Its eyes sparkled like stars, and its ears smoked.
The Invisible Prince jumped upon it, and said to Prince Slugobyl—
“Take my sword and go and exterminate the left wing, while I destroy the right and the centre.”
So the two set off, each to his place, and attacked the enemy with fury. To the right and to the left the soldiers fell like mown down grass. The slaughter was dreadful. The soldiers fled in all directions, but the two princes pursued them, and only ceased their labour when there remained on the field of battle only the dead and the dying. Then the two returned to the town. When they came near to the palace they shook hands. The Invisible Prince disappeared, and Prince Slugobyl went back to his stable.
It chanced that the king’s daughter had been in such trouble that she had not been able to sleep. So she had gone out upon her balcony, and from there she had observed all that had occurred. She had heard the conversation between the false prince and his servant. She had seen Slugobyl call the Invisible Prince to assist him, and she had seen him give his clothes and armour to the impostor, while he told him all that he had done during the night. The princess divined all, but she resolved to be careful, and not to speak till the right time.
The next day the king ordered that the victory gained by his guest over the hostile army should be celebrated by great festivities. Calling his daughter to him at the banquet, he was about to give her to the false prince, when she, leaving the table, made her way among the servants, and embracing Slugobyl, who stood amongst them, brought him forward.
“My father,” said she, “and all you who are here present, here is he who gained the victory, and whom Heaven has sent me to be my husband. He whom you have been honouring is nothing more than a vile impostor, who has robbed his master alike of his name and of his rights. Last night I could not sleep, and, going out upon my balcony, I saw things such as eye had never before seen, and heard things such as ear had never before been acquainted with. I will tell you all, but first of all command that traitor to show you the paper by which he claims to be what he pretends.”
The false prince then produced the paper signed by his master, and it was found to contain these words—
“Let the bearer of this paper, the traitorous and wicked servant of Prince Slugobyl, receive the punishment he well deserves for his treachery.
(Signed), Prince Slugobyl.”
“What!” cried the traitor, “do you say that that is what the writing means?”
“Yes,” cried they all. “That is what is here.”
Then he threw himself at the king’s feet and begged for mercy, but he only received what he deserved. He was tied to four wild horses and torn to pieces.
Prince Slugobyl married the princess. I, who tell you of these things, was there myself, and I there drank wine and hydromel, but, though my beard was wetted, none of the drink went into my mouth.
PRINCESS MARVEL.
Upon an island in the midst of the sea dwelt a princess, and with her lived twelve female attendants. The princess was of extraordinary beauty. Her face was calm and lovely as the moon, her lips were rosy red, and when she spoke her voice was full of music. Her eyes were remarkable. If they looked upon one with favour, her glance filled him with delight; but if they were cast upon one in anger, he was at once changed into a block of ice. All the princess’s attendants were very beautiful, and devoted to their mistress. In time the fame of the princess’s extraordinary loveliness was spread abroad. Folk came from all parts to see her, and the island became full of people.
Many princes sought the princess in marriage, but she rejected them all. Those who took her refusal in good part returned to their homes safe and sound, but woe to him who endeavoured to obtain the hand of Princess Marvel by force! Having landed with an army on the island, he saw his soldiers miserably perish, and he himself, pierced by a glance from the princess’s eye, became a block of ice.
One day the great ogre Koshchei, looking around the world, took it into his head to see all the different kings, queens, princes, and princesses it contained.
All of a sudden his glance fell upon the island where dwelt the princess. He looked, and saw the twelve beautiful attendants, and in their midst the lovely princess, asleep. As she slept the princess dreamt of a man who wore gold armour, was mounted on a fiery charger, and who was armed with an invisible club, and she felt that she loved the chevalier more than life itself.
Meanwhile Koshchei had fallen deep in love with the princess. Stamping three times upon the ground, he was at once transported to the island, but the princess, when he presented himself, rejected him with scorn, for she felt that she could be the wife of none but him whom she had seen in her dream. As Koshchei was determined to carry off the princess by force, if need be, she assembled her troops, and went out to meet him. Koshchei with his poisonous breath laid all the troops prostrate on the ground in a deep sleep. The princess, however, escaped, for, casting one of her angry glances on Koshchei, he was turned into a block of ice, and the princess returned to her palace. Koshchei did not long remain in that condition. When the princess came to her palace she found all the people within it asleep, and Koshchei, following her there, and not daring to appear before her for fear of again feeling the power of her eyes, built a wall of iron around the palace, placed a dragon with twelve heads at its gate, and waited, thinking that the princess would at length tire of being a solitary prisoner, and would agree to become his wife.
All upon the island were asleep, save the princess and Koshchei. Weeks and months passed away and Koshchei came to the gate of the palace time after time to tell the princess that he loved her, that resistance must be vain, and that, as his wife, she should be queen of all the underground world. Princess Marvel, however, listened to him in silence.
Solitary and sad, she thought of him she had seen in her dream. She thought of his shining armour, his fiery horse, his invisible club, and the glances he had cast upon her, assuring her he loved her. She was always thinking of him. One day, as she looked out, she saw a cloud passing along the sky, and said to it—
“Stop on your way through the blue sky, cloud, and tell me where is he whom I love, and whether he ever thinks of me.”
“I do not know,” said the cloud. “Ask the wind.”
The princess, seeing a breath of wind playing amongst the flowers, said to it—
“Wind, you travel far and wide and are so happy in your freedom, have pity upon me, who am so miserable and helpless. Tell me where is he whom I love, and whether he ever thinks of me.”
“Ask the stars,” said the wind. “They know more than I do.”
Princess Marvel lifted up her eyes to the bright, shining stars, and said—
“Stars, that shine so bright, can you see my eyes so full of tears without having pity on me? Tell me where is he whom I love, and whether he thinks of me.”
“You had better ask the moon,” said the stars. “She knows more that goes on upon the earth than we do.”
Then Princess Marvel said to the moon—
“Beautiful moon, look on me for a moment, and tell me where is he whom I love, and whether he thinks of me.”
“Princess,” answered the moon, “I know nothing about your friend. Wait a few hours, and then you will see the sun. Ask him. There is nothing hid from him, and he will tell you all.”
The princess waited till morning, and when the sun rose she said to him—
“Sun, look on me, and tell me where is my love, and if he thinks of me.”
“Princess Marvel,” replied the sun, “dry up your tears and take courage. The prince is coming to you. He has obtained the magic ring from the depths below; he has collected together an innumerable army to come to your rescue, and to punish Koshchei. All will, however, be useless unless the prince takes another course, for Koshchei can overthrow all the prince’s forces. I will go to the prince and give him some advice. Good-bye. I go to him who loves you. Be of good cheer, for he will come and rescue you, and you shall be happy.”
Then the sun looked down upon the country where Prince Junak, clothed in golden armour and mounted on a fiery horse, got ready his army to go and attack Koshchei. Three times had the prince seen the Princess Marvel in his dreams, and he loved her deeply.
“Leave your army,” said the sun to him, “for it will be of no service whatever against Koshchei. You can only deliver the princess from him by killing him, and to learn how you are to do that you must go to old Yaga. She can tell you how he can be killed. I will tell you how to get a horse which will carry you direct to her. Go towards the east until you come to a vast plain in the middle of which grow three oaks. Near to these you will find in the ground an iron door. Open it, and in a corner you will find the horse and the invisible club, which you must have to effect your wishes. You will afterwards learn how to proceed.”
Prince Junak hardly knew what to do, but at length he resolved to take the sun’s advice, so he took off the magic ring from his finger and threw it into the sea. His army at once disappeared, and the prince set out to go to the east. For eight days he went on, and then he came to a large plain, in the middle of which he found the three oaks of which the sun had spoken. He saw the iron door, opened it, and saw before him some winding steps. He went down these till he came to another iron door, which he likewise opened. Then he heard the neigh of a horse in the distance. Twelve other doors opened of themselves, and the prince at last came to the horse, which had been confined there during a great many ages by a magician. When it saw the prince, the horse broke the twelve iron chains that held it, and ran to him.
“Prince Junak,” it said, “I have waited for ages for such a man as yourself. Now I am ready to bear you and serve you faithfully. Leap on my back and grasp the invisible club which is attached to my saddle. You will not, however, have to wield it, for you have only to tell it what you want done and it obeys you of itself. Now let us go. Where shall I take you? Name the place you wish to be at, and we will be off at once.”
The prince leaped on the horse’s back, grasped the invisible club, and set out. The horse took its course through the air, and towards sunset the prince came to the borders of an immense forest in which was the residence of the old Yaga. Huge oaks stood all around. Not a bird sang, not an insect hummed, all was profound silence. The prince went on till he came to a hut which stood upon fowl’s feet, and which kept turning round and round.
“Hut,” said the prince, “turn your front towards me and your back to the forest.”
The hut turned to him and stood still, and the prince, going in, found the old Yaga there. When she saw him, she cried out—
“Why are you come here, Prince Junak, where no one has ever before been?”
“You are a foolish witch to ask questions of me,” said the prince, “and not to welcome me.” Then the Yaga rose and got ready everything that the prince needed. When he had eaten and drunk and rested himself, he told her why he had come.
“You have undertaken a difficult thing, Prince Junak,” said the Yaga, “and you will want all your courage to succeed. I will show you how to overcome Koshchei. In the middle of the ocean is the island of eternal life. In the centre of the island grows an oak, and under it is an iron coffer. In the coffer is a hare, under the hare is a grey duck, and under the duck is an egg in which is contained the life of Koshchei. If the egg is broken, Koshchei dies.”
The Prince at once set off to seek the egg. He rode on his wonderful horse until he came to the seashore. There he found a large fish struggling in a net.
“Prince Junak,” said the fish, “let me loose, and I promise you your kindness shall not be forgotten.”
The prince took the fish out of the net and set it free. Then he stood upon the shore, and thought how he should reach the island of eternal life, whose rocks he saw afar off. As he stood silent and sad, his horse said to him—
“Prince, what is it you are thinking of, and why do you look so sad?”
“How can I be otherwise,” answered the prince, “when I find my journey here all in vain? How can I reach the far-off island?”
“Mount upon my back,” said the horse, “and I will carry you to it. Only hold on well.”
The prince did as the horse told him, and the brave steed, plunging into the sea, carried him over to the island. When he had arrived there, the prince looked around him, and in the middle of the island he saw an immense oak. Going to it, the prince seized it, and, pulling with all his force, the oak was torn up by the roots. The tree groaned as the prince tore it from the earth. In the place its roots had occupied was a large hole in which was an iron coffer. When the prince opened the coffer out sprang the hare, and away flew the duck carrying the egg with it. The duck made towards the sea, and the prince, fearing he should lose the egg, shot at the bird. It fell, and with it also fell the egg into the sea. Then the prince gave a cry of despair, and, running down to the shore, he looked around to see if he could see anything of the egg, but it was not to be seen. All of a sudden a large fish made its appearance. “Prince Junak,” it said, “I have not forgotten the service you did me, for which I now make you some return.”
As it said this the fish placed the egg upon the shore, turned, and disappeared in the sea. Junak was delighted. He went to his horse, leaped into the saddle, and set off to the island where the Princess Marvel dwelt, carrying the egg with him. When he came there he saw the immense iron wall Koshchei had raised around the palace, and the dragon which lay at the gate. Six of the monster’s heads were asleep, while the other six watched. Then the prince commanded his invisible club to slay it. The dragon became furious under the blows. It could not see the club, and so could not tell to what quarter to turn itself. It rolled about, it turned its twelve heads here and there, it darted forth its sharp tongues, but all to no purpose. At length, in despair, it turned its rage upon itself, and with its sharp claws tore itself to pieces. Then the prince went in, and, dismounting and taking the invisible club in his hand, he sought the princess.
“Prince,” said she, when she saw him approach, “I have seen how you have overcome the dragon, but a still more terrible conflict awaits you with my cruel jailer, Koshchei. Be careful, I beseech you, how you engage with him, for, should you fall, I will cast myself down the steep precipice near the palace.”
“Do not fear, Princess Marvel,” replied he, “for I hold the life of Koshchei in my hand.”
Then said he to the invisible club—
“Go, and lay on to Koshchei.”
The club went and commenced to deal such blows upon Koshchei that the king of the underground world commenced to grind his teeth, to roll his eyes, and toss himself hither and thither. None else than Koshchei could have borne the blows for an instant. He looked around him but could see nothing, and his pain was so great that he howled so that the whole island rang again. At length he came to the palace, and there he saw Prince Junak.
“Ah!” said he, “you have put me to all this pain, have you?”
He was about to send his poisoned breath against him, when the prince suddenly squeezed the egg he had in his hand. The shell broke, the yolk sprang out and fell to the ground, and at the same moment Koshchei fell dead. As he did so all his enchantments ceased. All the people in the palace awoke, and the iron wall disappeared.
All then was happiness. In a few days the prince and the princess were married, and they lived joyfully all their days.
THE GHOST.
Once upon a time a poor scholar going to town chanced to come across the body of a man which had been cast by some one under the walls of the town near to the gate. The scholar had very little money in his pocket, but for all that he willingly paid for the body to be buried in a Christian manner, so that it might be protected from insult. Having seen to this, he said a few prayers over the grave, and then continued his journey.
It chanced that one day, as he passed through an oak-wood, he felt tired, and laid himself down to sleep under one of the trees. When he awoke, how astonished was he to find that his pockets were all full of gold! He called down blessings on the head of whoever it was that had done him this good turn, and went on. At length he came to the bank of a wide river too deep for him to ford. Seeing the money he had with him, two boatmen offered to row him across. He entered the boat, and the men rowed till they came to the middle of the river, when they set upon him, robbed him of his gold, and then threw him into the water.
Almost insensible he was carried away by the stream, but as he was floating along he found a log of wood beside him. He clung to it, and, keeping himself afloat by means of it, managed to scramble to shore. The log, however, was not really what it seemed to be. It was the spirit of the dead man whom the poor scholar had buried, and now, when he was on shore, the spirit spoke to him, and said—
“I am the spirit of him whose corpse you honoured with burial. I am grateful for what you did, and in return I will teach you three things: how to change yourself into a crow, a hare, and a roebuck.”
Having acquired these strange powers, the poor man went on his way. In time he came to the court of a mighty king, in whose service he entered as an archer. Now this king was the father of a beautiful princess who lived alone in a castle on a solitary island. The walls of the castle were of copper, and in it was a sword of such an extraordinary kind that one could, by waving it in the air, cut down a whole army at one sweep. It was natural that the sword should be coveted by very many, but no one durst venture upon the island to endeavour to obtain it.
Now at the time that the poor scholar came to the court, the king was sore troubled by his enemies, who were invading his dominions. He had great need of the sword, but how could he get it? He determined to see whether there was any among his subjects who would dare to go to the island, and so he caused a proclamation to be published to the effect that if any one would bring him the magical sword he should receive his daughter in marriage and succeed him on the throne.
For a while no one came forward, but at last the scholar determined to make the attempt. Every one was astonished at his audacity, but he boldly went to the king and begged him to give him a letter that he might deliver to the princess asking her to give the sword to him. The king wrote the letter and gave it to the man, who at once set out, making his way through the forest. Unknown to him he was followed at a little distance by another of the king’s archers who had determined to go after him and see how he sped. To travel the quicker, the archer assumed the shapes of a hare and a roebuck, as was suited to the ground over which he had to pass, and at last he came to the sea-shore. He then took the shape of a crow, and, flying over the waves as quickly as his wings would bear him, he at length came to the island on which was the castle.
He landed, and, making his way to the castle, entered and delivered the king’s letter to the princess, begging her at the same time to let him have the victorious sword. The beautiful princess, who had lived so long without looking upon a stranger, scanned the archer closely, and fell in love with him. She inquired of him how it was that he had had the courage to undertake a task from which others drew back, and to come to the castle which had not been visited by man for so many years, and the archer told her all about himself and the wonderful powers he possessed. The princess, asking him to give her proof that what he said was true, and desiring him to change himself into the various forms, the archer immediately did as she desired, and a handsome roebuck gambolled and played around her. As the princess stroked it she plucked a tuft of hair out of the animal’s coat, but the archer did not notice it. Next he changed himself into a crow, and flew about the room. The princess laid her hand upon the bird, and, while she stroked it, contrived to pluck some feathers out of its wing without the archer noticing it. He last of all changed himself into a hare, and again the princess plucked a tuft of hair out of his coat unobserved.
Then the princess wrote a letter to her father, delivered the sword to the archer, and dismissed him.
Taking the form of a crow, the man flew over the sea, and, having reached the shore, he changed himself to a roebuck, and ran till he came to the forest. Then he changed himself into a hare, and began to make his way as fast as possible through the forest depths. Now, the archer who had followed him had seen all that he had done till he came to the sea-shore to fly over to the castle. There the man had stopped awaiting the other’s return. He saw him come back in the shape of a crow, change himself into a roebuck, and again into a hare. As the hare was making its way through the forest the archer bent his bow, and discharged an arrow so well aimed that the hare at once fell dead to the ground. The archer came up to it, took the letter and the sword, and set out to the palace. When he arrived there he gave the king the sword, and demanded the promised reward.
The king was delighted to find himself in possession of the sword which would destroy all his enemies. He confirmed his promise of the reward, leaped into the saddle, and set off to the place where the hostile army was encamped. Scarcely had he come near enough to distinguish the flags of the enemy in the distance than he brandished the sword. At every stroke fresh foes fell to the ground, and at last the few of them that were left fled from the field stricken with terror at their comrades’ mysterious fate. The king collected together the booty he found in the enemy’s camp, and, returning home, sent to his daughter to tell her to come to his court so that he might give her to the archer.
Meanwhile the poor fellow who had been slain while he was travelling as a hare lay dead in the forest under an oak-tree. All of a sudden, however, he came to life again, and, looking around him, he saw the spirit of the dead man, whose body he had buried, standing near him. The spirit told him that it had witnessed what had befallen him, and had by the power it possessed called him back to life.
“The wedding of the princess,” it said to the man, “is to be celebrated to-morrow, and if you would keep her you must go as fast as you can to the palace. She will know you as soon as she sees you, and you will also be recognised by the archer who so wickedly slew you.”
So the young man lost no time, but went on to the palace. When he came to the court he found all the guests already assembled. He entered the room, and no sooner had the princess cast a glance on him than she knew it was he, and was beside herself with joy. As for the treacherous archer, he turned pale when he saw the man, whom he thought he had murdered, alive and well.
Then the man told all the company everything that had happened, and how the archer had slain and robbed him. The tale was so wonderful that the guests could scarcely credit it, so the man changed himself into a roebuck to show them that what he had said was true. Then the princess put her hand in her pocket and took out of it a tuft of hair which was found to exactly fit a bare place on the roebuck’s coat. The man changed himself into a hare, and the princess again produced a piece of a hare’s coat which exactly fitted a bare spot in the animal’s skin. Lastly he changed himself into a crow, and the princess producing the feathers she had formerly plucked out of the bird, it was found that they were missing in its plumage.
When the king saw all this he required no further proof of the man’s story, and he ordered that the treacherous archer should be at once led forth and put to death by being torn to pieces by four wild horses.
Within the palace all was joy and festivity. The archer married the princess, and they wanted nothing, for the wish of their hearts was obtained.
Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty,
at the Edinburgh University Press.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Punctuation has been normalized.
Variations in hyphenation have been retained as they were in the original publication.