The sharpshooter was sitting in the golden summer-house; he fell to thinking, and said: “I am sorry; where art thou now, trusty servant?”
“Here, my master.”
Fedot rejoiced. “Isn’t it time for us to go home?” The moment he spoke he was borne through the air as if by a whirlwind.
The merchants woke up, and wishing to drink off the effects of their carousal, cried out: “Give us to drink, Shmat-Razum.” No one answered, nothing was brought; no matter how much they screamed and commanded, no result. “Well, gentlemen, this scoundrel has swindled us. Now Satan himself could not find him; the island has vanished, the pleasure-house is gone.” The merchants grieved and regretted; then hoisted their sails and went to where they had business.
The sharpshooter soon arrived at his own kingdom, came down by the sea-shore. “Shmat-Razum, canst thou build me a palace here?”
“Why not?—it will be ready directly.”
The palace appeared so splendid that it could not be described,—twice as good as the king’s. Now the box was opened, and all around the palace was a glorious garden, with rare trees and flowers.
The sharpshooter sat by the window admiring the garden when all at once a blue dove flew in through the open window, struck the floor, and became his young wife. They embraced and kissed each other; then made inquiries and gave answer. Said his wife to Fedot: “Since the time thou didst leave me I have lived a lone dove in the forests and thickets.”
Next morning the king went out on the balcony, and saw by the shore of the blue sea a new palace, and a green garden around it. “What insolent fellow has built on my land without leave?” Couriers hastened, discovered, reported, that the palace was built by Fedot, who was living there then, and with him his wife.
The king’s anger increased. He gave orders to collect troops and go to the sea-shore, destroy the garden, break the palace into small pieces, and give the sharpshooter and his wife to a cruel death.