Plavecete took leave of his wife departed, saying to himself:—
"I do not know which way to turn my steps; but no matter, my god-mother will direct them."
He was not deceived. Without difficulty he found the right road, and pressed forward for a long time over hill and dale and river, until he reached the shore of the Black Sea, and observed a boat with its one boatman, to whom he said:—
"Heaven bless you, old boatman!"
"The same to you, young traveller. Where do you want to go?"
"To the castle of Dede-Vsevede, to get three hairs from his head."
"If that is so, welcome! I have long awaited the arrival of such an envoy as you. For twenty years I have been rowing passengers across, and not one of them has done anything to deliver me. If you promise me to ask Dede-Vsevede when I am to have a substitute to free me from my troubles, I will row you over in my boat."
"PLAVACETE TOOK THE LETTER."
Plavacete promised, and the boatman rowed him to the opposite shore. He thence continued his journey, and approached a great city, which was partially in ruins. Not far from it he saw a funeral procession; the King of the country followed the coffin of his father, and tears as big as peas rolled down his cheeks.