So, too, it came to pass. At dawn the prince came out of his room and espied a more beautiful palace than he had ever seen, and Bony, when he saw it, wondered, and wouldn’t believe his own eyes. ‘Well! thou hast won this time, and now thou hast my second command. I shall place my twelve daughters before thee to-morrow; if thou dost not guess which of them is the youngest, thou wilt place thy head beneath the axe.’ ‘I unable to recognise the youngest princess!’ said the prince in his room; ‘what difficulty can there be in that?’ ‘This,’ answered the princess, flying into the room in the shape of a bee, ‘that if I don’t help you, you won’t recognise me, for we are all so alike that even our father only distinguishes us by our dress.’ ‘What am I to do?’ ‘What, indeed! That will be the youngest over whose right eye you espy a ladycow; only look well. Adieu!’ On the morrow King Bony again summoned Prince Unexpected. The princesses stood in a row side by side, all dressed alike and with eyes cast down. The prince looked and marvelled how alike all the princesses were; he went past them once, twice—he did not find the appointed token; the third time he saw a ladycow over the eyebrow of one, and cried out: ‘This is the youngest princess!’ ‘How the deuce have you guessed it?’ said Bony angrily. ‘There must be some trickery here. I must deal with your lordship differently. In three hours you will come here again, and will show your cleverness in my presence. I shall light a straw, and you will stitch a pair of boots before it goes out, and if you don’t do it you will perish.’
The prince returned desponding and found the bee already in his apartment. ‘Why pensive again, prince?’ ‘How shouldn’t I be pensive, when your father wants me to stitch him a pair of boots, for what sort of cobbler am I?’ ‘What else will you do?’ ‘What am I to do? I shan’t stitch the boots, and I’m not afraid of death—one can but die once!’ ‘No, prince, you shall not die! I will endeavour to rescue you, and we will either escape together or perish together! We must flee—there’s nothing else to be done.’ Saying this, the princess spat on one of the window-panes, and the spittle immediately froze. She then went out of the room with the prince, locked the door after her, and threw the key far away; then, taking each other by the hands, they ascended rapidly, and in a moment found themselves on the very spot whence they had descended into the subterranean realm; there was the self-same sea, the self-same shore overgrown with rushes and thornbushes, the self-same fresh meadow, and in the meadow cantered the prince’s well-fed horse, who, as soon as he descried his rider, came galloping straight to him. The prince didn’t stop long to think, but sprang on his horse, the princess seated herself behind him, and off they set as swift as an arrow.
King Bony at the appointed hour did not wait for Prince Unexpected, but sent to ask him why he did not appear. Finding the door locked, the servants knocked at it vigorously, and the spittle answered them from the middle of the room in the prince’s voice, ‘Anon!’ The servants carried this answer to the king; he waited, waited, no prince; he therefore again sent the same servants, who heard the same answer: ‘Anon!’ and carried what they had heard to the king. ‘What’s this? Does he mean to make fun of me?’ shouted the king in wrath: ‘Go at once, break the door open and conduct him to me!’ The servants hurried off, broke open the door, and rushed in. What, indeed? there was nobody there, and the spittle on the pane of glass was splitting with laughter at them. Bony all but burst with rage, and ordered them all to start off in pursuit of the prince, threatening them with death if they returned empty-handed. They sprang on horseback and hastened away after the prince and princess.
Meanwhile Prince Unexpected and the princess, Bony’s daughter, were hurrying away on their spirited horse, and amidst their rapid flight heard ‘tramp, tramp,’ behind them. The prince sprang from the horse, put his ear to the ground and said, ‘They are pursuing us.’ ‘Then,’ said the princess, ‘we have no time to lose.’ Instantly she transformed herself into a river, changed the prince into a bridge, the horse into a raven, and the grand highway beyond the bridge divided into three roads. Swiftly on the fresh track hastened the pursuers, came on to the bridge, and stood stupefied; they saw the track up to the bridge, but beyond it disappeared, and the highway divided into three roads. There was nothing to be done but to return, and they came with nought. Bony shouted with rage, and cried out: ‘A bridge and a river! It was they. How was it that ye did not guess it? Back, and don’t return without them!’ The pursuers recommenced the pursuit.
‘I hear “tramp, tramp!”’ whispered the princess, Bony’s daughter, affrightedly to Prince Unexpected, who sprang from the saddle, put his ear to the ground, and replied: ‘They are making haste, and are not far off.’ That instant the princess and prince, and with them also their horse, became a gloomy forest, in which were roads, by-roads, and footpaths without number, and on one of them it seemed that two riders were hastening on a horse. Following the fresh track, the pursuers came up to the forest, and when they espied the fugitives in it, they hastened speedily after them. On and on hurried the pursuers, seeing continually before them a thick forest, a wide road and the fugitives on it; now, now they thought to overtake them, when the fugitives and the thick forest suddenly vanished, and they found themselves at the self-same place whence they had started in pursuit. They returned, therefore, again to Bony empty-handed. ‘A horse, a horse! I’ll go myself! they won’t escape out of my hands!’ yelled Bony, foaming at the mouth, and started in pursuit.
Again the princess said to Prince Unexpected: ‘Methinks they are pursuing us, and this time it is Bony, my father, himself, but the first church is the boundary of his dominion, and he won’t be able to pursue us further. Give me your golden cross.’ The prince took off his affectionate mother’s gift and gave it to the princess, and in a moment she was transformed into a church, he into the priest, and the horse into the bell; and that instant up came Bony. ‘Monk!’ Bony asked the priest, ‘hast thou not seen some travellers on horseback?’ ‘Only just now Prince Unexpected rode this way with the princess, Bony’s daughter. They came into the church, performed their devotions, gave money for a mass for your good health, and ordered me to present their respects to you if you should ride this way.’ Bony, too, returned empty-handed. But Prince Unexpected rode on with the princess, Bony’s daughter, in no further fear of pursuit.
They rode gently on, when they saw before them a beautiful town, into which the prince felt an irresistible longing to go. ‘Prince,’ said the princess, ‘don’t go; my heart forebodes misfortune there.’ ‘I’ll only ride there for a short time, and look round the town, and we’ll then proceed on our journey.’ ‘It’s easy enough to ride thither, but will it be as easy to return? Nevertheless, as you absolutely desire it, go, and I will remain here in the form of a white stone till you return; be circumspect, my beloved; the king, the queen, and the princess, their daughter, will come out to meet you, and with them will be a beautiful little boy—don’t kiss him, for, if you do, you will forget me at once, and will never set eyes on me more in the world—I shall die of despair. I will wait for you here on the road for three days, and if on the third day you don’t return, remember that I perish, and perish all through you.’ The prince took leave and rode to the town, and the princess transformed herself into a white stone, and remained on the road.
One day passed, a second passed, the third also passed, and nothing was seen of the prince. Poor princess! He had not obeyed her counsel; in the town, the king, the queen, and the princess their daughter, had come out to meet him, and with them walked a little boy, a curly-headed chatterbox, with eyes as bright as stars. The child rushed straight into the prince’s arms, who was so captivated by the beauty of the lad that he forgot everything, and kissed the child affectionately. That moment his memory was darkened, and he utterly forgot the princess, Bony’s daughter.
The princess lay as a white stone by the wayside, one day, two days, and when the third day passed and the prince did not return from the town, she transformed herself into a cornflower, and sprang in among the rye by the roadside. ‘Here I shall stay by the roadside; maybe some passer-by will pull me up or trample me into the ground,’ said she, and tears like dew-drops glittered on the azure petals. Just then an old man came along the road, espied the cornflower in the rye by the wayside, was captivated by its beauty, extracted it carefully from the ground, carried it into his dwelling, set it in a flower-pot, watered it, and began to tend it attentively. But—O marvel!—ever since the time that the cornflower was brought into his dwelling, all kind of wonders began to happen in it. Scarcely was the old man awake, when everything in the house was already set in order, nowhere was the least atom of dust remaining. At noon he came home—dinner was all ready, the table set; he had but to sit down and eat as much as he wanted. The old man wondered and wondered, till at last terror took possession of him, and he betook himself for advice to an old witch of his acquaintance in the neighbourhood. ‘Do this,’ the witch advised him: ‘get up before the first morning dawn, before the cocks crow to announce daylight, and notice diligently what begins to stir first in the house, and that which does stir, cover with this napkin: what will happen further, you will see.’
The old man didn’t close his eyes the whole night, and as soon as the first gleam appeared and things began to be visible in the house, he saw how the cornflower suddenly moved in the flower-pot, sprang out, and began to stir about the room; when simultaneously everything began to put itself in its place; the dust began to sweep itself clean away, and the fire kindled itself in the stove. The old man sprang cleverly out of his bed and placed the cloth on the flower as it endeavoured to escape, when lo! the flower became a beautiful damsel—the princess, Bony’s daughter. ‘What have you done?’ cried the princess. ‘Why have you brought life back again to me? My betrothed, Prince Unexpected, has forgotten me, and, therefore, life has become distasteful to me.’ ‘Your betrothed, Prince Unexpected, is going to be married to-day; the wedding feast is ready, and the guests are beginning to assemble.’