“Come, come,” she said. “They say the gentleman has begun to work with his head.”
Ivan wondered.
“Really?” he said, and turning his horse round, he went to the tower. When he got there, the old Devil, who was quite faint with hunger by this time, was staggering and knocking his head against the pillars, and when Ivan came up he fell with a crash down the stairs, counting each step on the way with a knock of his head.
“Well,” Ivan said, “the clean gentleman spoke truly when he said that the head splits sometimes. Blisters on the hands are nothing to this; after such work there will be bumps on the head.”
The old Devil fell to the bottom of the stairs and thumped his head against the ground. Ivan was about to go up and see how much work he had done, when suddenly the earth opened and the old Devil fell through. Only a hole was left.
Ivan scratched his head.
“You horrid wretch! One of those devils again! The father of the others, no doubt. What a huge one too!”
Ivan is living to this day and people flock to his kingdom. His own brothers have come to him and he supports them. When any one comes and says, “Feed me,” Ivan says, “Very well, you can live with us; we have plenty of everything.” Only there is a special custom in his kingdom—whoever has horny hands comes to table; whoever has smooth ones eats the leavings.