Having thoroughly established himself in this most interesting region, he began to look after all those who happened to approach these important domains of fate, invited the travellers and pilgrims to his house, asked each one the story of his or her life and diligently and carefully recorded them. Soon a whole bouquet of most varied and entertaining tales was gotten up, reminding one of the all famous Arabian stories, and I can only regret that my memory prevented me from remembering but very few of them. I can understand very well all that Nebrotk relates about himself. Once upon a time, in the night he was awakened by some sweet, sweet singing, and having hastened to rise and go out, he smelt a strong and remarkable fragrance. He turned and peeped right into the precipice.
The moon was lighting up its bottom; the enormous rocks glistened like pure silver and gold, while the water shone like the finest diamonds. With great satisfaction—nay, delight—he glanced at this heavenly picture, and suddenly his eyes were fixed on and could easily distinguish two human heads on the surface of the water. He began to pay more attention; a very handsome youth—a negro—and quite as beautiful and splendid a white girl were standing in the water up to their throats, and having lifted their arms high out of the water, they were playing with some wonderful, bright, gleaming threads. Correctly these nets were fastened and refreshed with clean, clear water, and they seemed to stay in the air without any sign of motion.
Later he distinguished the following details: These nets of threads were fastened to an immense leaf of some sea plant and in this massive, fairy-like floor, which was all aglow with emeralds and gold, there stood a figure exceeding all human beauty. The whole scene was wrapped in a slight watery fog and a soft moonlight. The longer Nebrotk paid attention and looked at the surprising spectacle the more easily he succeeded in making out that all the charm of this extraordinary scene was concentrated in the form of a perfectly magnificent woman. In her hands there was some kind of a long feather, consisting entirely of sun rays, with which in the course of her sweet swim she reached and touched the different plants and flowers, and indeed, as though subjected to her peremptory commands, they gave out an indescribable fragrance and each little flower united with the marvellous choir which had gently awakened Nebrotk and sang softly, sweetly, beautifully.
Nebrotk got perfectly passionate, so anxious was he to understand the contents and exact meaning of this fragrant, flowery little song, and holding his breath, he began to take the greatest pains and was enabled to hear: “Astkchicka! O Astkchicka! O Astkchicka! O Astkchicka!”
That struck him as most peculiar, and having once more fixed his eyes on the head of the woman, he beheld a glistening, darling little star. This was exactly Astkchicka, i.e., Venera, whom the Tsar Vachtang the First had chased out of all his temples and houses of worship, and her adorers as well as her sacrificers and those who had been so benefited by her—all without exception had to abandon her in the deepest grief and disappointment. Then, however, she found two tender lovers. He was an adventurer, viz., a fisherman, but she the daughter of a very wealthy gardener. The goddess promised them her complete protection, and they without further reflections threw away their only property, i.e., their garments, and naked they went into the water in order to construct something for their kind benefactor. And see! the expelled goddess decided to rise and establish herself near the interesting “rivulet of the tears of the body-knight” (stremiannoy), and to that spot she directed her numerous admirers.
Having seen Nebrotk, Astkchicka waved with her all shining feather, and from the motions she made, a bridge really and truly formed itself. She came down to earth, and having turned around to look, she again waved with her feather. On one side there was a bush of yellow roses, on the other side one of white roses. Their buds were instantly transformed and actually turned out as garments for her loving servants who were hastening after her. Thereupon she slowly returned to the hut of humble Nebrotk and with a new motion of her bewitching feather changed it into a perfectly marvellous, brilliant, nay, most elegant royal palace. Nebrotk stood like one struck by lightning. With a clever but sly smile upon her beautiful face, Astkchicka ordered her servants to lead him off to the stream and put him down on the estrade abandoned by her. But hardly had these orders been complied with and fulfilled when the pillars of the estrade gave way and broke down together with the negro. The terrible, yes frightful, cry of the drowning man perfectly silenced the sweet chorus of the flowers. The servants were frightened and anxiously looked at the water, and after a short time a half god came out of it; he was white with a golden crown imperial, in which only the fiery black eyes reminded one of the drowned negro.
All four settled down in the fairy-like palace and were blessed with indescribable happiness. This was indeed a kingdom of love, unhindered and unrestrained by any laws. Nebrotk perfectly adored Astkchicka, and the fisherman Naboukodonozor the gardener woman Roussoudanna. The host was quite in love with the goddess and the servant with the gardenkeeper, although both were merely common negro slaves. But even in the fairy-like palace under the protection of the very goddess of love, there happened to be a spot especially designed for animated secret conversations between lovers. In one of these unhappy moments the conditions and peculiar qualities of the stream became known to Naboukodonozor, and the fear that the magic force of the water should influence Roussoudanna found a refuge in his soul. It is of course well known to all of you that suspicion is the enemy of love. Naboukodonozor seriously began to think that Roussoudanna had fallen in love with him. Seeking the reason of this imaginary adoration he suddenly came upon the idea that she was occupied in involuntarily comparing his black skin with the most godly white complexion of Nebrotk, and in consequence of this horrid supposition his heart began to be filled with emotion and passion, while after passion came ungratefulness to Astkchicka and a very revolutionary spirit; afterwards she transformed Nebrotk, who had really done absolutely nothing for her, into a half god, while the latter, who had successfully brought her to this enchanting resort, she simply abandoned and left a negro and slave.
And during the night he walked along the bank of the stream and sang a song of his great grief, and suddenly the old cedars, the high, high peach trees, the grand old nut trees composed a beautiful chorus and an all powerful song, blowing everything before it like a huge wave, reached the palace and suddenly awakened the goddess—but Nebrotk quietly went on sleeping and heard nothing. Stepping lightly, Astkchicka softly and cautiously went out to the rivulet, where Naboukodonozor, with his back turned towards her, was bitterly crying, and blushing terribly, she knocked him over and sent him flying into the water.
Without a word or motion did Naboukodonozor enter the water, and just so he came out—more magnificent even than Nebrotk, and throwing himself at the lovely feet of the goddess he covered them with kisses. Astkchicka did not at all object to such proceedings, but did not let him get out of sight, and it seemed very evident that she also was in love with him. The slave, encouraged by the concessions of his mistress, seized the godly hands and began to kiss them just so madly. Suddenly, however, Astkchicka roughly pulled them away, passed them around his neck and having given him a kiss on his lips, she instantly disappeared. Some wonderful extraordinary fire ran over the whole body of poor Naboukodonozor from this rare, but dangerous kiss. A new feeling got hold of him, viz., a boundless desire inspired him to run off to the goddess, but the very thought that she was able to treat, nay, caress, Nebrotk in the same affectionate way, completely kept him from making a fool of himself. He threw himself on the ground and tried with all his might and main to extinguish the burning fire which was raging inside of him, rolling in the soft sweet grass and mercilessly treading down the highly fragrant flowers, while the moon seemed to be offended with its greatest favorite and bashfully hid itself behind a massive cloud. The perfect and impenetrable darkness at last forced the crank to come back to his senses; he then went home exasperated, most dissatisfied, and wicked in his intentions.
Roussoudanna was quietly sleeping and knew of nothing that had taken place in the night, and what must have been her astonishment, when in the morning she beheld Naboukodonozor with a pure white complexion and golden hair. Upon the question what had occurred to him, he passionately replied that he had just gone to a stream, let himself down into the water and had come out in the very state she saw him.