So the nephew went to town to sell the uncle’s corn, and on the way he met a rich miller.—“Why art thou off to town?” said the miller.—“I am going to the bazaar to sell my uncle’s corn.”—“Then we’ll go to town together.”—So they went along the road together, the miller in his gig with his plump brown horse, and the orphan in his little cart with his thin gray mare. They encamped side by side in the open field to pass the night there, took out the horses, and themselves lay down to sleep. And it happened that self-same night the gray mare dropped a foal. The rich miller woke earlier than the orphan, saw the foal, and drove him beneath his gig. When the orphan awoke a hot dispute arose between them. The orphan said: “It is my foal, because my mare dropped it.” The covetous miller said: “No, ’tis mine, because thy mare dropped it beneath my gig.” They wrangled and wrangled till they resolved to go to law about it, and when they arrived in town they went to the court to fight the matter out there. And the judge said to them: “In our town we have introduced this custom into the tribunals, that whoever wants to go to law must first of all guess four riddles. So tell me now: what is the strongest and swiftest thing in the world; what is the fattest thing in the world; and what is the softest and what the sweetest of all?” The judge gave them three days to guess, and said: “If you guess my riddles, I will judge betwixt you according to law; but if not, don’t be angry if I drive you away.”
The rich miller went to his wife and told her how the matter stood, and what riddles the judge had given him to guess. “All thy riddles are but simple ones,” replied the miller’s wife; “if they ask thee what is the strongest and swiftest thing in the world, tell them that my father has a dark-brown horse so strong and nimble that it can run down a hare. And if they ask thee what is the fattest thing in the world, dost thou not know that in our stall we are fattening up a two-year-old boar, and he’s getting so fat that his very legs won’t be able to hold him up? And as for the third riddle, what is the softest thing in the world, why it’s quite plain that that’s a down pillow; thou canst not imagine anything softer than that. And if they ask thee what is the sweetest thing in the world, say: ‘Why, what sweeter thing can a man have than the wife of his bosom?’”
But the orphan went out of the town into the fields and sat by the roadside and racked his brain. He sat and thought of his misery; and along the road, close to him, passed the self-same lovely damsel. “Why art thou so racking thy brains again, good youth?”—“Why, look here, the judge has given me four such riddles to guess that I shall never be able to guess them all my days,” and he told the damsel all about it. The damsel laughed, and said to him: “Go to the judge and say to him, that the strongest and swiftest thing in the world is the wind; that the fattest of all is the earth, for she feeds everything that lives and grows upon her; the softest of all is the palm of the hand, for however soft a man may lie he always puts his hand beneath his head; and there’s nothing sweeter in the whole world than sleep.” The poor little orphan bowed to the very girdle to the damsel, and said to her: “I thank thee, thou sagest of maidens, for thou hast snatched me from very ruin.”
When the three days had passed, the miller and the orphan appeared in court, and told the court the answers to the riddles. Now the Tsar chanced to be on the bench at that time, and the answers of the orphan so pleased him that he ordered that the cause between them should be given in his favour, and that the miller should be driven with shame from the court. After that the Tsar said to the orphan: “Didst thou hit upon these answers thyself, or did some one else tell thee?”—“To tell the truth, they are not my own; the lovely damsel taught me these answers.”—“She has taught thee well too, sage indeed must she be. Go to her and tell her in my name that if she be so wise and sensible she must appear before me to-morrow: neither on foot nor on horseback, neither naked nor clothed, and with a present in her hand that is no gift. If she accomplish this I will reward her as becomes a Tsar, and make her higher than the highest.” Again the orphan went out of the town, and again he fell a-fretting, and he said to himself: “Why, I don’t even know how and have no idea where to find this lovely damsel; what sort of a task is this that I am bidden to give her?” No sooner had he thought this than the sage and lovely damsel again passed by that way. The orphan told her how his guesses had pleased the Tsar, and how he wanted to see the damsel himself and have proof of her wisdom, and how he had promised to reward her. The damsel thought a bit, and then said to the orphan: “Fetch me a long-bearded billy-goat, and a big net for catching fish, and catch me a pair of sparrows. To-morrow morning we’ll meet here, and if I get a reward from the Tsar, I’ll share it equally with thee.”
The orphan carried out the orders of the damsel, and waited for her next morning at the roadside. The damsel appeared, stripped off her sarafan,[1] and wound herself in the long fishing-net from head to foot; then she sat on the goat, took a sparrow in each hand, and bade the orphan lead the way to town. The young man brought her to the Tsar at court, and she bowed low to the Tsar and said: “Behold, O sovereign Tsar! I come to thee neither on foot nor on horseback, neither naked nor clothed, and I have brought a present in my hand which is no gift.”—“Where is it?” asked the Tsar. “Here!” and she gave the Tsar the live sparrows, and he was about to take them from her hands when the sparrows wriggled out and flew away. “Well,” said the Tsar, “I see thou canst vie even with me in wit. Stay at my court, and look after my children, and I’ll give thee a rich recompense.”—“Nay, my sovereign lord and Tsar, I cannot accept thy gracious favour; I have promised this good youth to share my reward with him for his services.”—“Look now! thou art witty and wise; but in this matter thy head is turned, and thou dost not judge according to reason. I offer thee a high and honourable place with a great recompense; why then canst thou not share this reward with this youth?”—“But how can I share it then?”—“How, thou sage damsel? Why if this good youth be dear to thee, marry him; for honour and recompense, and labour and sorrow and bright-faced joy are shared by husband and wife half and half.”—“Thou too art wise, I see, O sovereign Tsar, and I’ll gainsay thee no longer,” said the lovely damsel. So she took the orphan for her husband, and though the orphan had no very great mind, his heart was simple and good, and he lived with his sage wife all his life in contentment and happiness.
[1] A long dress without sleeves.
The Prophetic Dream.
There was once upon a time a merchant, and he had two sons, Dmitry and Ivan. Once the father bade his sons good-night, sent them off to bed, and said to them: “Now, children, whatever you see in your dreams, tell it all to me to-morrow morning, and whichever of you hides his dream from me, no good thing will befall him.” In the morning the eldest son came to his father and said: “I dreamed, dear father, that my brother Ivan flew high into the sky on twenty eagles.”—“Very good!” said the father; “and what didst thou dream, Vania?”[1]—“Well, such rubbish, father, that it is impossible to tell it.”—“What dost thou mean? Speak!”—“No, I’ll not!”—“Speak, sir, when I bid thee!”—“No, I won’t speak, I won’t.” The father was very angry with his youngest son, and resolved to punish him for his disobedience, so he sent for his overseers and bade them strip Ivan naked and tie him to a post at the crossways as tightly as possible. No sooner said than done. The overseers seized hold of him, dragged him far, far away from home to the crossways, where seven roads crossed, tied him by the hands and feet to the post, and left him alone to his fate. The poor youth fared very badly. The sun scorched him, the gnats and flies sucked his blood, hunger and thirst tortured him. Fortunately for Ivan, a young Tsarevich happened to be going along one of these seven roads; he saw the merchant’s son, had compassion on him, and bade his attendants untie him from the post, dressed him in his own clothes, and saved him from a cruel death. The Tsarevich took Ivan to his court, gave him to eat and drink, and asked him who had tied him to the post. “My own father, who was angry with me.”—“And wherefore, pray? Surely thy fault was not small?”—“Well, in fact, I would not obey him; I would not tell him what I saw in my dreams.”—“And for such a trifle as that he condemned thee to so cruel a punishment! The villain! But surely he has outgrown his wits! But what then didst thou see in thy dream?”—“I saw what I cannot even tell unto thee, O Tsarevich!”—“What! Not tell? Not tell me? me, the Tsarevich? What! I saved thee from a cruel death, and thou wilt not do this trifle for me in return? Speak immediately, or it will not be well with thee!”—“Nay, Tsarevich! I stick to my word. I haven’t told my father, and I’ll not tell thee.”—The Tsarevich boiled over with unspeakable rage, and shrieked to his servants and attendants, “Hi! my faithful servants, take this good-for-nothing boor, put heavy irons on his hands, weld grievous fetters to his legs, and cast him into my deep dungeon!” The servants did not think twice about their master’s commands; they seized Ivan the merchant’s son, loaded his hands and feet with fetters, and put him as God’s slave in the stone sack. A little and a long time passed by, and the Tsarevich thought of marrying the thrice-wise Helena, the first maiden in the whole earth for beauty and wisdom, so he made ready and went into the strange country far away to marry this thrice-wise Helena. Now it happened that the day after he had gone, his sister the Tsarevna went walking in the garden hard by the very same dungeon in which Ivan the merchant’s son had been put. He saw the Tsarevna through the little grated window, and cried to her with a lamentable voice: “Dear mother Tsarevna, thy brother will never be married without my help.”—“Who art thou?” answered the Tsarevna. Ivan named his name and added: “I suppose thou hast heard, O Tsarevna, of the trickeries and the cunning wiles of the thrice-wise Helena? I have heard not once nor twice that she has expedited many wooers into another world; believe me that thy brother also will not be able to marry her without me!”—“And thou art able to help the Tsarevich?”—“Able and willing, but the falcon’s wings are bound, and no way for him is found.”—The Tsarevna bade them release Ivan from his dungeon, and gave him full liberty to do what was in his mind so long as he only helped the Tsarevich to marry. And then Ivan the merchant’s son chose him comrades first of all, one by one, and added youth to youth, and they were all as like to each other as if they had been born brothers. He dressed them in mantles of one kind, sewn in one and the same fashion; he mounted them on horses of one colour, and like each other to a hair, and they all mounted and rode away. Twelve was the number of the young comrades of Ivan the merchant’s son. They rode for one day, they rode for another day, and on the third day they entered a gloomy forest, and Ivan said to his comrades: “Stay, my brothers, there is here, on the verge of the precipice, an old tree; a hollow, branchless tree; I must look into its hollow trunk and find my fortune there.” So he went to the tree he had described and plunged his hand into the hollow trunk, and drew out of it an invisible cap, hid it in his bosom, and returned to his comrades.