Russian Folk-Tales

by A. N. Afanas'ev

Iván the merchant’s son did as he was bidden and as soon as ever he had thrown the draught out of the window it began to rend the earth; and again he never said a single word to his stepmother; so she still thought that he was in the dark.

On the third day he went to the shop, and the stepmother again went to the soothsayer. The old woman gave her an enchanted shirt. In the evening, as he was going out of the shop, the merchant’s son went up to the foal, and he saw that there stood his good horse on tip-toes and in tears. So he struck him by the bridle and said, “Why do you weep, my good horse? Why your counsel do you keep?”

Then the foal answered him, “Why should I not weep? Do I not know that your stepmother is wishing to destroy you? Listen to what I say. When you go home your stepmother will send you to the bath, and she will send the boy to you with a shirt. Do not put on the shirt yourself, but put it on the boy, and you will see yourself what will come of it.”

So the merchant’s son went up to his attic, and his stepmother came and said to him, “Would you not like to have a steam bath? The bath is now ready.”

“Very well,” said Iván, and he went into the bath, and very soon after the boy brought him a shirt. As soon as ever the merchant’s son put it on the boy he that very instant closed his eyes and fell on the floor, as though he were dead. And when he took the shirt off him and cast it into the stove, the boy revived, but the stove was split into small pieces.

The stepmother saw that she was doing no good, so she again went to the old soothsayer and asked and besought her how she should destroy her stepson. The old woman answered, “As long as the horse is alive nothing can be brought about. But you pretend to be ill, and when your husband comes back tell him, ‘I saw in my sleep that the throat of our foal must be cut and the liver extracted, and I must be rubbed with the liver; then my disease will pass away.’”

Some time after the merchant came back, and the son went out to meet him.

“Hail, my son!” said the father. “Is all well with you at home?”

“All is well, only mother is ill,” he answered.

So the merchant unloaded his wares and went home, and he found his wife lying in the bedclothes groaning, saying, “I can only recover if you will fulfil my dream.”