“Be of good hope, czar,” answered the hunter; “as soon as I say the word, everything will be completed.”
“Good,” said the czar. “If you have spoken the truth you shall have my daughter for your wife; if not, your head will be the forfeit.”
The hunter said to himself, “I shall either become a prince, or I am a lost man.”
He then whispered, “Murza, go there, I know not where; do this, I know not what.”
A few minutes passed, and there was nothing to be heard or seen. Huntsman the Unlucky turned pale; the czar, enraged, ordered him to be seized and put in irons, when suddenly the firing of guns was heard in the distance. The czar and his courtiers ran out on the steps leading to the castle, and saw bodies of men approaching from both right and left, their standards waving gracefully in the air; the soldiers were splendidly equipped. The czar could hardly believe his eyes, for he himself had no troops so fine as these.
“This is no delusion!” cried Huntsman the Unlucky. “These are the forces of my invisible friend.”
“Let them drive away the enemy then, if they can,” said the czar.
The hunter waved his handkerchief. The army wheeled into position; music burst forth in a martial strain, and then a great cloud of dust arose. When the dust had cleared away, the army was gone.
The czar invited Huntsman the Unlucky to dinner, and asked him numerous questions about Murza the Invisible. At the second course the news came that the enemy was flying in every direction, completely routed. The terrified Tartars had left all their tents and baggage behind them. The czar thanked the hunter for his assistance, and informed his daughter that he had found a husband for her. Princess Milovzora blushed upon receiving this intelligence, then turned pale, and began to shed tears. The hunter whispered something to Murza, and the princess’s tears changed into precious stones as they fell. The courtiers hastened to pick them up—they were pearls and diamonds. The princess smiled at this, and overcome with pleasure gave her hand to Huntsman the Unlucky—unlucky no longer. Then began the feast. But here the story must end.