Then the king’s son sat on his good steed and journeyed over forty-nine kingdoms as swiftly as the most fleet-winged bird could go. Once curiosity rose in him to know if there was indeed something in the reeds, and what it could be like. I say, curiosity rose up in him, and bored his side as if with an iron auger, so that what he did or did not do, he took out his gleaming knife and split the smallest reed, in which was the youngest attendant of the world-beautiful Reed Maiden. No sooner had he split the reed than a beauteous, pearl-given, lovely girl fell upon his breast; and her first word was: “Water! Only as much water as a little swallow takes in her beak when she gives drink to her young, or I die!”
But the king’s son had it not. One drop of water is not much, but he could not give that much. The beautiful maiden, like a broken flower, began to wither, grew paler and paler, till at last the pallor of death seized her head, and bending to the breast of the king’s son, she died.
The king’s son was so sorry for his fault that if it had been possible, he would have atoned for it with his blood; but that was not possible. Therefore he came down from his good steed, dug a grave with his sword, and buried the maiden; as a grave-mark he planted the split reed, and from it a black rose sprang, which as mourning, bloomed in black.
A bitter weeping wail, a bitter woe-cry was heard from the two reeds that were not split yet, as if some one were bewailing a brother. Great sadness seized the king’s son too, who thought, “I caused the death of this maiden. I broke this flower and planted it in the bosom of death.” But if he had wept out his soul, it would have been useless; therefore he mounted his steed and rode farther. He travelled and journeyed till curiosity rose in his breast, and bored his side as with an iron auger. “Is there in the second reed another such maiden; and will she go like the first?”
At last he could resist the devil’s boring no longer; so he took his gleaming clasp-knife, and split the second reed also. Behold, the elder attendant of the Reed Maiden, came out, saying: “Water, water, or I shall die a fearful death!” But the king’s son had not one drop of water; the maiden grew paler and paler, till she dropped her head on the breast of the king’s son, and died. The king’s son came to the earth, dug a grave with his sword, and buried the maiden. At the head of the grave he placed the split reed; from it a beautiful rose-bush sprang up, which bloomed in black, as mourning.
A bitter weeping wail, a bitter woe-cry of pain was heard from the unsplit reed, in which the world-beautiful maiden herself was hidden; and no less grief seized the king’s son. He had killed two; with his own strength he had broken two beautiful flowers, and put them in the bosom of death. Grief covered him with black wing. His good steed went as a bird of swiftest flight till curiosity rose up in the breast of the king’s son, bored his side as with an iron auger. “What sort of person is his future bride? who is the world-beautiful Reed Maiden?”
Since he could not resist this devil’s boring, this mighty curiosity, he took out the third and last reed to split it; but the magic steed reached back, and taking the reed from the king’s son, did not return it till they came to the shore of a lake.
At the water the king’s son split the last reed, and there came forth such a maiden that her like was not born since the world began, nor before, nor after. Her first word was: “Water! Only as much water as a little swallow takes in her beak when she gives drink to her young, or I shall die in a moment!”
The king’s son gave her to drink; she felt better. Then they embraced, and kissed, saying, “I am thine, thou art mine.”
“Listen, my beautiful love,” said the king’s son, “while I ride home for a carriage of glass and gold do thou hide in this willow; but till I see thee, though one word is not much, speak not that much to any one.”