“Willingly, O my father,” answered each of his three sons; and Prince Dimitri, as the eldest, claimed the right to the first watch.
The garden was flooded with moonlight as the prince threw himself down on a moss-grown bank that faced the tree, and the fragrance of the roses soon worked its drowsy spell. From a grove of myrtles came the song of a sweet-voiced nightingale: “Glück—glück—glück,” she trilled, and in listening to her the prince fell fast asleep. When he awoke it was light again. The tree had been once more despoiled, and the Magic Bird had flown.
The same thing occurred when Prince Vasili took his turn in watching. It is only fair to him to say that he did not fall asleep until the night was far spent, but as the east began to quiver with light, he too became overpowered with slumber. The Magic Bird was watching her opportunity, and yet again she robbed the tree. When questioned by the tsar, both princes solemnly assured him that no strange bird had visited the garden during the night, but though he fain would have believed them, he could not doubt the evidence of his eyes.
It was now Prince Ivan’s turn to watch. He was not nearly so good-looking as his brothers, but he had a stout heart and a cool head, and he made up his mind to keep awake at any cost. Instead of reclining on the ground, he perched himself in the boughs of the tree, and when the song of the nightingale threatened to lull him to sleep, as it had done the elder princes, he put his fingers into his ears that he might not hear it.
An hour passed slowly; a second, and then a third. Suddenly the whole garden was lit up as if with a burst of sunshine, and with rays of light flashing from every shaft of her golden feathers the Magic Bird flew down and began to peck at the shining apples. Prince Ivan, scarcely daring to breathe, stretched out his hand and caught as much of her tail as he could grasp. With a startled cry the Magic Bird spread her beautiful wings and wrenched herself free, leaving behind one glittering feather, which the prince held firmly. At break of day he took this to his father, humbly apologizing for his ill success in not having caught the Magic Bird herself.
“Nevertheless, you have done well, my son,” said the tsar gratefully, and he placed the feather, which shone so brightly that at dusk it illuminated the whole room, in a cabinet of cedar and mother-of-pearl.
The Magic Bird came no more to the palace garden, and the precious tree was never again despoiled of its golden apples. But the tsar was not content. He sighed to possess the bird that had robbed him, and once more he summoned his three sons.
“My children,” he said, “I am sick with longing for the Magic Bird. Seek her, I pray you, and bring her to me. What I have promised already shall then be yours.”
The princes assented gladly, each anxious to find the Magic Bird. Prince Ivan alone wished to please his father; his brothers were only thinking of the riches and honors they would gain for themselves. So dear was this youngest son to the monarch’s heart that he was loath to part with him when the time came, but the youth insisted.
“It will not be for long, dear father,” he cried “I shall soon return with the Magic Bird you sigh for.” So the tsar blessed him, and let him go.