"Oh, no, take me, for whoever wears me in his hat will be loved by the greatest beauty in the world," said another. Then a third and a fourth, each lovelier than its companions, stirred, and in sweet tones tried to persuade Petru to gather it.
The bay sprang aside whenever it saw its master stoop toward a flower.
"Why don't you keep quiet?" cried Petru, somewhat sternly.
"Pick no blossoms, you will fare badly if you gather them," replied the bay.
"Why should I fare badly?"
"A curse rests on these flowers—whoever gathers them must fight with the Welwa[5] of the wood."
[5] Welwa, an indescribable monster that exists in the imagination of the Roumanian peasantry.
"With what sort of a Welwa?"
"Now let me alone! But listen; look at the flowers and gather none of them, keep quiet." Having said this the horse went on at a walk. Petru knew by experience that he would do well to heed the bay's advice. So he turned his thoughts away from the flowers. But it was all in vain! If one is unlucky, he can't get rid of his ill-fortune even if he tries with all his might. The flowers still offered themselves to him, and his heart grew weaker and weaker.
"Come what may," said Petru after a while, "I shall at least see the Welwa of this wood, that I may know what the monster is like and with whom I have to deal. If I am fated to die by its hands, it will kill me in some way, and if not I shall escape, though there should be hundreds and thousands like it." Then he began to pull off the flowers.