“I can make soldiers out of anything you choose.”
“What good are they?”
“You can make them do anything you like. Soldiers can do everything.”
“Can they play songs?”
“They can.”
“Very well; make some, then.”
And the Devilkin said, “Take a sheaf of rye and bump it upright on the ground, saying,—
My slave bids you be a sheaf no more.
Every straw contained in you,
Must turn into a soldier true.”
Ivan took the sheaf and banged it on the ground and repeated the Devilkin’s words. And the sheaf burst asunder and every straw turned into a soldier and at their head the drummer and bugler were playing. Ivan laughed aloud.