IN that ancient time when God’s world was full of wood-demons, witches, and river-maidens, when rivers of milk were flowing between banks of jelly, when over the fields roast partridges were flying, there lived a Tsar, Goroh by name, with his Tsaritsa, Anastasia the Beautiful; and they had three sons. A misfortune not small happened,—an unclean spirit carried away the Tsaritsa.
Said the eldest son to the Tsar: “Father, give me thy blessing; I will go in search of my mother.”
He went away and vanished; for three years there were neither tidings nor report of him.
The second son began to ask: “Father, give me thy blessing for the road, for the journey. Perhaps I may have the luck to find my brother and my mother.”
The Tsar gave his blessing. The Tsarevich rode off and also disappeared as if he had sunk in water.
Ivan, the youngest son, came to the Tsar. “My dear father, give me thy blessing for the road, for the journey; perhaps I shall find my brothers and mother.”
“Go thy way, my dear son.”
Ivan Tsarevich set out for a strange, distant region. He travelled and travelled, and reached the blue sea. He stopped on the shore and thought: “Whither can I hold my way now?” All at once there flew to sea three and thirty spoonbills, struck the earth, and became fair maidens,—all beautiful, but one was better than all the rest. They undressed and rushed into the water. Whether they were bathing a long or short time, Ivan Tsarevich stole up and took the girdle of that maiden who was better than all the rest and hid it in his bosom. When they had finished bathing they came out on shore and began to dress. One girdle was gone.
“Ah! Ivan Tsarevich,” said the beauty, “give me my girdle.”
“Tell me first where my mother is.”