“The princess from White Island.”
In silence, but with gladness in his eyes, Boyislav quenched the taper, folded the tablecloth, and taking both with him walked out. When he went with the messenger to the princess, his heart beat with anxiety so that he could not raise his eyes when he stood before her.
“Thou art the man!” exclaimed the princess, joyfully. But when Boyislav knew not what to answer, she said reproachfully: “Has the ardor with which thou didst kiss me grown cold?”
“It has not,” murmured Boyislav, wishing to kiss the golden hem of her robe.
The princess raised him up, and kissing him, said: “This is the earnest of our betrothal.”
Boyislav was glad to respond; and now all returned to the castle, where feasting began, which was to be closed by the wedding of the princess and Boyislav. All were rejoiced except the princesses of Black Island, who were as sad as ever. The three princes who had gone to Black Island were in deathly terror. Boyislav in the middle of the feast grew sad, and when asked the reason, he inquired: “Where is my trusty horse?”
No one could answer him, till at last one of the servants remembered that the horse had been shut up in a pen. To the great astonishment of all, Boyislav ran out to him, fell upon his neck, and shed tears of joy.
“Thou hast done well to come,” said the horse, sadly, “or I should have perished with hunger; for the cord brought from Red Island is eaten. Every span of it became a bundle of hay. But now thou hast attained thy object, and I am needed no longer; cut off my head.”
“I cut off thy head!” exclaimed Boyislav.
“Then thou dost not wish to free me,” said the horse, with chiding voice.