So Vanya went. But as for his elder brothers they did nothing but exercise their horses, and curl their hair, and dye their mustaches.
The second night came.
“Brothers!” said Vanya, “I’ve done my share of reading. It’s your turn now; which of you will go?”
“Whoever likes can go and read. We’ve business to look after; don’t you meddle.”
And they cocked their caps, and shouted, and whooped, and flew this way, and shot that way, and roved about the open country.
So Vanyusha read prayers this time also—and on the third night, too.
Well, his brothers got ready their horses, combed out their mustaches, and prepared to go next morning to test their mettle before the eyes of Helena the Fair.
“Shall we take the youngster?” they thought. “No, no. What would be the good of him? He’d make folks laugh and put us to confusion; let’s go by ourselves.”
So away they went. But Vanyusha wanted very much to have a look at the Princess Helena the Fair. He cried, cried bitterly; and went out to his father’s grave. And his father heard him in his coffin, and came out to him, shook the damp earth off his body, and said:
“Don’t grieve, Vanya. I’ll help you in your trouble.”