“Here, Ludmila,” she said, “carry this out to the young man. But see that you don’t talk to him. And hurry back.”
Poor Raduz had been pounding stones one on another as well as he could, but he hadn’t been able to grind any of them into flour. As noonday approached he kept looking up anxiously to see whether beautiful Ludmila was again coming to help him.
“Here I am,” she called while she was yet some distance away. “You were to have lizard stew today but, see, I am bringing you my own dinner!”
Then she told him what she had heard Yezibaba say to her father.
“Today she almost brought you your dinner herself, for she suspects that I have been helping you. If she knew that I really had she would kill you.”
“Dear Ludmila,” Raduz said, “I know very well that without you I am lost! How can I ever thank you for all you have done for me?”
Ludmila said she didn’t want thanks. She was helping Raduz because she was sorry for him and loved him.
Then she took Yezibaba’s wand and struck the rocky cliff. At once, instead of the bare rock, there were sacks of grain and a millstone that worked merrily away grinding out fine flour. As you watched, the flour was kneaded up into loaves and then, pop went the loaves into a hot oven and soon the air was sweet with the smell of baking bread.
Raduz begged Ludmila to stay and talk to him, but she remembered that the old witch was waiting for her and she hurried home.
The next morning Raduz carried the baked loaves to Yezibaba. She sniffed at them suspiciously and then her wicked heart nearly cracked with bitterness to think that Raduz had accomplished his third task. But she hid her disappointment and pretending to smile, she said: