Then Tsar Gorokh was very wroth, and stamped with his feet, and bade them drive out the brothers of little fool Ivan with broomsticks, and one of them he sent to tend his swine in the cattle-yard, and the other he sent to look after the turkeys in the poultry-yard.

But little fool Ivan he set beside himself, and made him the chief over the Boyars, and the captain of the captains. And long did they feast together in gladness of heart, till everything was eaten and everything was drunk up. And little fool Ivan began to rule the realm, and his rule was wise and terrible, and on the death of his father-in-law he took his place. His children were many, and his subjects loved him, and his neighbours feared him, but the Tsarina Baktriana was just as beautiful in her old age as when she was young.

THE LITTLE FEATHER OF FENIST THE BRIGHT FALCON.

Once upon a time there was an old widower who lived with his three daughters. The elder and the middle one were fond of show and finery, but the youngest only troubled herself about household affairs, although she was of a loveliness which no pen can describe and no tale can tell. One day the old man got ready to go to market in the town, and said: "Now, my dear daughters, say! what shall I buy for you at the fair?"--The eldest daughter said: "Buy me, dear dad, a new dress!"--The middle daughter said: "Buy me, dear dad, a silk kerchief!"--But the youngest daughter said: "Buy me, dear dad, a little scarlet flower!"--The old man went to the fair; he bought for his eldest daughter a new dress, for his middle daughter a silk kerchief, but though he searched the whole town through he could not find a little scarlet flower. He was already on his way back when there met him a little old man, whom he knew not, and this little old man was carrying a little scarlet flower. Our old man was delighted, and he asked the stranger: "Sell me thy little scarlet flower, thou dear little old man!"--The old man answered him: "My little scarlet flower is not for sale, 'tis mine by will, it has no price and cannot be priced, but I'll let thee have it as a gift if thou wilt marry thy youngest daughter to my son!"--"And who then is thy son, dear old man?"--"My son is the good and valiant warrior-youth Fenist the bright falcon. By day he dwells in the sky beneath the high clouds, at night he descends to the earth as a lovely youth."--Our old man fell a-thinking; if he did not take the little scarlet flower he would grieve his daughter, and if he did take it there was no knowing what sort of a match he would be making. He thought and thought, and at last he took the little scarlet flower, for it occurred to him that if this Fenist the bright falcon, who was thus to be wedded to his daughter, did not please him, it would be possible to break the match off. But no sooner had the strange old man given him the little scarlet flower than he vanished from before his eyes just as if he had never met him at all. The old man scratched his head and began to ponder still more earnestly: "I don't like the look of it at all!" he said, and when he got home he gave his elder daughters their things, and his youngest daughter her little scarlet flower, and said to her: "I don't like thy little scarlet flower a bit, my daughter; I don't like it at all!"--"Wherefore so vexed at it, dear father?" quoth she. Then he stooped down and whispered in her ear: "The little scarlet flower of thine is willed away; it has no price, and money could not buy it me--I have married thee beforehand for it to the son of the strange old man whom I met in the way, to Fenist the bright falcon." And he told her everything that the old man had told him of his son. "Grieve not, dear father!" said the daughter; "judge not of my intended by the sight of thine eyes, for though he come a-flying, we shall love him all the same." And the lovely daughter shut herself up in her little gabled chamber, put her little scarlet flower in water, opened her window, and looked forth into the blue distance. Scarcely had the sun settled down behind the forest when, whence he came who knows, Fenist the bright falcon darted up in front of her little window. He had feathers like flowers, he lit upon the bal.u.s.trade, fluttered into the little window, flopped down upon the floor, and turned into a goodly young warrior. The damsel was terrified, she very nearly screamed; but the good youth took her tenderly by the hand, looked tenderly into her eyes, and said: "Fear me not, my destined bride! Every evening until our marriage I will come flying to thee; whenever thou placest in the window the little scarlet flower I'll appear before thee. And here is a little feather out of my little wing, and whatever thou mayest desire, go but out on the balcony and wave this little feather--and immediately it will appear before thee." Then Fenist the bright falcon kissed his bride and fluttered out of the window again. And he found great favour in her eyes, and from henceforth she placed the little scarlet flower in the window every evening, and so it was that whenever she placed it there the goodly warrior-youth, Fenist the bright falcon, came down to her.

Thus a whole week pa.s.sed by, and Sunday came round. The elder sisters decked themselves out to go to church, and attired themselves in their new things, and began to laugh at their younger sister. "What art thou going to wear?" said they; "thou hast no new things at all." And she answered: "No, I have nothing, so I'll stay at home." But she bided her time, went out on the balcony, waved her flowery feather in the right direction, and, whence I know not, there appeared before her a crystal carriage and stud-horses and servants in gold galloon, and they brought for her a splendid dress embroidered with precious stones. The lovely damsel sat in the carriage, and went to church. When she entered the church, every one looked at her, and marvelled at her beauty and her priceless splendour. "Some Tsarevna or other has come to our church, depend upon it!" the good people whispered among themselves. When the service was over, our beauty got into her carriage and rolled home; got into the balcony, waved her flowery feather over her left shoulder, and in an instant the carriage and the servants and the rich garments had disappeared. The sisters came home and saw her sitting beneath the little window as before: "Oh, sister!" cried they, "thou hast no idea what a lovely lady was at ma.s.s this morning; 'twas a thing marvellous to behold, but not to be described by pen or told in tales."

Two more weeks pa.s.sed by, and two more Sundays, and the lovely damsel threw dust in the eyes of the people as before, and took in her sisters, her father, and all the other orthodox people. But on the last occasion, when she was taking off her finery, she forgot to take out of her hair her diamond pin. The elder sisters came from church, and began to tell her about the lovely Tsarevna, and as their eyes fell upon her hair they cried with one voice: "Ah! little sister, what is that thou hast got?" The lovely damsel cried also, and ran off into her little room beneath the gables. And from that time forth the sisters began to watch the damsel, and to listen of a night at her little room, and discovered and perceived how at dawn Fenist the bright falcon fluttered out of her little window and disappeared behind the dark woods. And the sisters thought evil of their younger sister. And they strewed pieces of broken gla.s.s on the window-sill of their sister's little dormer chamber, and stuck sharp knives and needles there, that Fenist the bright falcon when he lit down upon the window might wound himself on the knives. And at night Fenist the bright falcon flew down and beat vainly with his wings, and beat again, but could not get through the little window, but only wounded himself on the knives and cut and tore his wings. And the bright falcon lamented and fluttered upwards, and cried to the fair damsel: "Farewell, lovely damsel! farewell, my betrothed! Thou shalt see me no more in thy little dormer chamber! Seek me in the land of Thrice-nine, in the empire of Thrice-ten. The way thither is far, thou must wear out slippers of iron, thou must break to pieces a staff of cast-iron, thou must fret away reins of stone, before thou canst find me, good maiden!" And at the self-same hour a heavy sleep fell upon the damsel, and through her sleep she heard these words yet could not awaken. In the morning she awoke, and lo! knives and needles were planted on the window-sill, and blood was trickling from them. All pale and distraught, she wrung her hands and cried: "Lo! my distresses have destroyed my darling beloved!" And the same hour she packed up and started from the house and went to seek her bright-white love, Fenist the shining falcon.

The damsel went on and on through many gloomy forests, she went through many dreary mora.s.ses, she went through many barren wildernesses, and at last she came to a certain wretched little hut. She tapped at the window and cried: "Host and hostess, shelter me, a poor damsel, from the dark night!" An old woman came out upon the threshold: "We crave thy pardon, lovely damsel! Whither art thou going, lovey-dovey?"--"Alas! granny, I seek my beloved Fenist the bright falcon. Wilt thou not tell me where to find him?"--"Nay, I know not, but pray go to my middle sister, she will show thee the right way; and lest thou shouldst stray from the path, take this little ball; whithersoever it rolls, thither will be thy way!" The lovely damsel pa.s.sed the night with the old woman, and on the morrow, when she was departing, the old woman gave her a little gift. "Here," said she, "is a silver spinning-board and a golden spindle; thou wilt spin a spindle full of flax and draw out threads of gold. The time will come when my gift will be of service to thee." The damsel thanked her, and followed the rolling ball. Whether 'twere a long time or a short matters not, but the ball rolled all the way to another little hut. The damsel opened the door and the second old woman opened it. The old woman asked her questions and said to her: "Thou hast still a long way to go, damsel, and it will be no light matter to find thy betrothed. But look now! when thou comest to my elder sister she will be able to tell thee better than I can. But take this gift from me for thy journey--a silver saucer and a golden apple. The time will come when they will be of use to thee." The damsel pa.s.sed the night in the hut, and then went on further after the rolling ball; she went through the woods further and further, and at every step the woods grew blacker and denser, and the tops of the trees reached to the very sky. The ball rolled right up to the last hut; an old woman came out upon the threshold and invited the lovely damsel to take shelter from the dark night. The damsel told the old woman whither she was going and what she sought. "Thine is a bad business, my child!" said the old woman; "thy Fenist the bright falcon is betrothed to the Tsarevna over sea, and will shortly be married to her. When thou gettest out of the wood on to the sh.o.r.es of the blue sea, sit on a little stone, take out thy silver spinning-board and thy golden spindle and sit down and spin, and the bride of Fenist the bright falcon will come out to thee and will buy thy spindle from thee, but thou must take no money for it, only ask to see the flowery feathers of Fenist the bright falcon!" The damsel went on further, and the road grew lighter and lighter, and behold! there was the blue sea; free and boundless it lay before her, and there, far, far away above the surface of the sea, bright as a burning fire, gleamed the golden summits of the marble palace halls. "Surely that is the realm of my betrothed which is visible from afar!" thought the lovely damsel, and she sat upon the little stone, took out her silver spinning-board and her golden spindle, and began spinning flax and drawing golden thread out of it. And all at once, she saw coming to her along the sea-sh.o.r.e, a certain Tsarevna, with her nurses and her guards and her faithful servants, and she came up to her and watched her working, and began to bargain with her for her silver spinning-board and her golden spindle. "I will give them to thee for nothing, Tsarevna, only let me look on Fenist the bright falcon!" For a long time the Tsarevna would not consent, but at last she said: "Very well, come and look at him when he is lying down to rest after dinner, and drive the flies away from him!" And she took from the damsel the silver spinning-board and the golden spindle and went to her terem, made Fenist the bright falcon drunk after dinner with a drink of magic venom, and then admitted the damsel when an unwakable slumber had overpowered him. The damsel sat behind his pillow, and her tears flowed over him in streams. "Awake, arise, Fenist the bright falcon!" said she to her love; "I, thy lovely damsel, have come to thee from afar; I have worn out slippers of iron, I have ground down a staff of steel, I have fretted away reins of stone; everywhere and all times have I been seeking thee, my love." But Fenist the bright falcon slept on, nor knew nor felt that the lovely damsel was weeping and mourning over him. Then the Tsarevna also came in, and bade them lead out the lovely damsel, and awoke Fenist the bright falcon. "I have slept for long," said he to his bride, "and yet it seemed to me as if some one has been here and wept and lamented over me."--"Surely thou hast dreamt it in thy dreams?" said the Tsarevna; "I myself was sitting here all the time, and suffered not the flies to light on thee."

The next day the damsel again sat by the sea, and held in her hands the silver saucer and rolled the little golden apple about on it. The Tsarevna came out walking again, went up to her, looked on and said, "Sell me thy toy!"--"My toy is not merchandise, but an inheritance; let me but look once more on Fenist the bright falcon, and thou shalt have it as a gift."--"Very well, come again in the evening, and drive the flies away from my bridegroom!" And again she gave Fenist the bright falcon a drink of magic sleeping venom and admitted the lovely damsel to his pillow. And the lovely damsel began to weep over her love, and at last one of the burning tears fell from her eyes upon his cheeks. Then Fenist the bright falcon awoke from his heavy slumbers and cried, "Alas! who was it who burned me?"--"Oh, darling of my desires!" said the lovely damsel, "I, thy maiden, have come to thee from afar. I have worn out shoes of iron, I have worn down staves of steel, I have gnawed away wafers of stone, and have sought thee everywhere, my beloved! This is the second day that I, thy damsel, have sorrowed over thee, and thou wokest not from thy slumber, nor made answer to my words!" Then only did Fenist the bright falcon know his beloved again, and was so overjoyed that words cannot tell of it. And the damsel told him all that had happened, how her wicked sisters had envied her, how she had wandered from land to land, and how the Tsarevna had bartered him for toys. Fenist fell in love with her more than ever, kissed her on her sugary mouth, and bade them set the bells a-ringing without delay, and a.s.semble the Boyars and the Princes and the men of every degree in the market-place. And he began to ask them, "Tell me, good people, and answer me according to good sense, which bride ought I to take to wife and shorten the sorrow of life: her who sold me, or her who bought me back again?" And the people declared with one voice, "Her who bought thee back again!" And Fenist the bright falcon did so. They crowned him at the altar the same day in wedlock with the lovely damsel. The wedding was joyous and boisterous and magnificent. I also was at this wedding, and drank wine and mead, and the b.u.mpers overflowed, and every one had his fill, and the beard was wet when the mouth was dry.

THE TALE OF THE PEASANT DEMYAN.

Whether it is a long time ago or a short time ago I cannot say, but I know that once upon a time, in a certain village, dwelt a peasant who was headstrong and hot-tempered, and his name was Demyan. He was austere and hard and stern, always seeking an occasion to quarrel, and dealing hardly with whom-soever he fell out. Whatever any one said or did to him, he was always ready with his fists. He would invite a neighbour to be his guest, for instance, and force him to eat, and if the neighbour hung back a bit for bashfulness or courtesy, our peasant would pitch into him at once and cry, "In a strange house obey thy host!"

Now this is what happened one day. A smart, st.u.r.dy young fellow came to little Demyan as a guest, and our peasant regaled him finely, and filled the table with meat and drink. The young fellow pulled everything towards himself, dish after dish, and munched away in silence with both cheeks crammed full. Our peasant stared and stared, and at last he took off his cloak and said, "Take off thy blouse, and put on my cloak!" But he thought to himself, "He is sure to refuse, and then I'll show him something!" But the youth put on the cloak, tied it round with his girdle, bowed low and said, "Well, little father! I thank thee for thy gift. I dare not refuse, for in a strange house one must obey the host."

The host was furious; he wanted to pick a quarrel with him now at any price, so he ran into the stable, got out his best horse, and said to the youth, "Nothing is too good for thee! Here, mount my horse, and take it away as thine own!" But he thought, "He'll be sure to refuse, and then I'll teach him a lesson." But the youth again said, "In a strange house we must always obey the host!" Only when he was fairly mounted did he turn round to the peasant Demyan and cry, "Farewell, mine host! n.o.body pushed thee, but thou didst fall into the ditch of thine own self!" and he trotted out of the courtyard right away.

But the host looked after him, shook his head, and said, "The scythe has struck upon a stone!" [51]

THE ENCHANTED RING.

In a certain kingdom in a certain empire, there lived, once upon a time, an old man and an old woman, and they had a son called little Martin. Time went on, the old man fell ill and died, and though he had worked hard all his days, the only inheritance he left behind him was two hundred rubles. [52] The old woman did not want to waste this money, but what was to be done? There was nothing to eat, so she had to have recourse to the pot containing the patrimony. The old woman counted out a hundred rubles, and sent her son to town to buy provision of bread for a whole year. So Martin the widow's son went to town. He went past the meat market, and saw crowds of people gathered together, and his ears were deafened by the din and noise and racket. Little Martin went into the midst of the throng and saw that the butchers had caught a terrier, and had fastened it to a post, and were beating it unmercifully. Little Martin was sorry for the poor dog, and said to the butchers, "My brothers! why do you beat the poor dog so unmercifully?"--"Why should we not beat him, when he has spoiled a whole quarter of beef?"--"Yet, beat him not, my brothers! 'Twere better to sell him to me!"--"Buy him if you like then!" said the butchers, mockingly, "but for such a treasure as that we could not take less than a hundred rubles."--"Well, one hundred rubles is only one hundred rubles after all!" replied little Martin, and he drew out the money and gave it for the dog. But the dog's name was Jurka. [53] Martin then went home, and his mother asked him, "What hast thou bought?"--"Why look, I have bought Jurka!" replied her son. His mother fell a-scolding him, and reproached him bitterly: "Art thou not ashamed? Soon we shall not have a morsel to eat, and thou hast gone and thrown away so much money on a pagan dog." The next day the old woman sent her son into the town again, and said to him, "Now there is our last one hundred rubles, buy with it provision of bread. To-day I will collect together the sc.r.a.pings of the meal-tub and bake us fritters, but to-morrow there will not even be that!" Little Martin got to town and walked along the streets and looked about him, and he saw a boy who had fastened a cord round a cat's neck and was dragging it off to drown it. "Stop!" shrieked Martin, "whither art thou dragging Vaska?" [54]--"I am dragging him off to be drowned!"--"Why, what has he done?"--"He is a great rascal. He has stolen a whole goose."--"Don't drown him, far better sell him to me!"--"I'll take nothing less than one hundred rubles!"--"Well, one hundred rubles is only one hundred rubles after all; here! take the money!" And he took Vaska from the boy. "What hast thou bought, my son?" asked his mother when he got home.--"Why the cat Vaska!"--"And what besides?"--"Well, perhaps there's some money still left, and then we can buy something else."--"Oh, oh, oh! what a fool thou art!" screeched the old woman. "Go out of the house this instant and beg thy bread from the stranger!"

Martin dared not gainsay his mother, so he took Jurka and Vaska with him and went into the neighbouring village to seek work. And there met him a rich farmer. "Whither art thou going?" said he. "I want to hire myself out as a day-labourer."--"Come to me then. I take labourers without any contract, but if thou serve me well for a year thou shalt not lose by it." Martin agreed, and for a whole year he worked for this farmer without ceasing. The time of payment came round. The farmer led Martin into the barn, showed him two full sacks, and said, "Take which thou wilt." Martin looked; in one of the sacks was riches, in the other sand, and he thought to himself, "That's not done without a reason; there's some trickery here. I'll take the sand; something will come of it no doubt." So Martin put the sack of sand on his back, and went to seek another place. He went on and on, and strayed into a dark and dreary wood. In the midst of the wood was a field, and on the field a fire was burning, and in the fire a maiden was sitting; and it was such a lovely maiden that it was a delight to look at her. And the Beauty said to him, "Martin the widow's son, if thou wishest to find happiness, save me. Extinguish this flame with the sand which thou hast gotten for thy faithful service."--"Well, really," thought Martin, "why should I go on dragging this load about on my shoulders? Far better to help a body with it." So he undid his sack and emptied all the sand on the fire. The fire immediately went out, but the lovely damsel turned into a serpent, bounded on to the bosom of the good youth, wound itself round his neck, and said, "Fear me not, Martin the widow's son. Go boldly into the land of Thrice-ten, into the underground realm where my dear father rules. Only mark this; he will offer thee lots of gold and silver and precious stones; thou, however, must take none of them, but beg him for the little ring off his little finger. That ring is no common ring; if thou move it from one hand to the other twelve young heroes will immediately appear, and whatever thou dost bid them do they will do it in a single night."

Then the young man set out on his long, long journey, whether 'twere a long time or a short I know not, but at last he drew nigh to the kingdom of Thrice-ten, and came to a place where a huge stone lay across the way. Here the snake leaped from his neck, lit on the damp ground, and turned into the former lovely damsel. "Follow me," said she to Martin, and showed him a little hole beneath the stone. For a long time they went through this underground way, and came into a wide plain beneath the open sky; and in this plain a castle was built entirely of porphyry, with a roof of golden fish-scales, with sharp-pointed golden pinnacles. "That's where my father lives, the Tsar of this underground region," said the lovely damsel to Martin.

The wanderers entered the castle, and the Tsar met them kindly and made them welcome. "My dear daughter," said he to the lovely damsel, "I did not expect to see thee here. Where hast thou been knocking about all these years?"--"Dear father, and light of my eyes, I should have been lost altogether but for this good youth, who saved me from an unavoidable death!" The Tsar turned, looked with a friendly eye at Martin, and said to him, "I thank thee, good youth. I am ready to reward thee for thy good deeds with whatever thou desirest. Take of my gold and silver and precious stones as much as thy soul longs for."--"I thank thee, Sovereign Tsar, for thy good words. But I want no precious stones, nor silver, nor gold; but if thou of thy royal grace and favour wouldst indeed reward me, then give me, I pray, the ring from the little finger of thy royal hand. Whenever I look upon that ring I'll think of thee; but if ever I meet with a bride after mine own heart I will give it to her." The Tsar immediately took off the ring, gave it to Martin, and said, "By all means, good youth, take the ring, and may it be to thy health! But mark this one thing: tell no one that this ring of thine is no common ring, or it will be to thy hurt and harm!"

Martin the widow's son thanked the Tsar and took the ring, and returned by the same way through which he had reached the underground realm. He returned to his native place, sought out his old widowed mother, and lived and dwelt with her without either want or care. Yet for all the good life he led, Martin seemed sorrowful; and why should he not? for Martin wanted to marry, and the bride of his choice was not his like in birth, for she was a king's daughter. So he consulted his mother, and sent her away as his matchmaker, and said to her, "Go to the King himself, and woo for me the thrice-lovely Princess."--"Alas! my dear son," said his old mother, "'twould be far better for thee if thou wert to chop thine own wood. [55] But what art thou thinking of? How can I go to the King and ask him for his daughter for thee? 'Twould be as much as thy head and my head were worth."--"Fear not, dear mother! If I send thee, thou mayest go boldly. And mind thou dost not come back from the King without an answer."

So the old woman dragged herself to the royal palace. She went into the royal courtyard, and without being announced she went right up to the very staircase of the King. The guards shook their arms at her as a sign that n.o.body was allowed to go there, but she didn't trouble her head about that one bit, but kept on creeping up. Then all the royal lacqueys came running up, and took the old woman under the arms and would have quite gently led her down again; but the old woman made such a to-do and fell a-shrieking so loudly that it pierced through everything, and the King himself in his lofty carved palace heard the noise, and looked out of his little window into the courtyard, and saw his servants dragging an old woman down the staircase, and preventing her from entering the royal apartments, while the old woman was resisting and shrieking with all her might. "I won't go out! I have come to the King on a good errand!" The King commanded them to admit the old woman. The old woman entered the carved palace, and saw sitting in the front corner, on the high carved throne, on cushions of purple velvet, the King in state, holding a council in the midst of his grandees and his councillors. The old woman invoked the aid of the holy ikons, [56] and bowed very low before the King. "What hast thou to say, old woman?" asked the King.--"Now, lo! I have come to your Majesty--be not wroth at my words--I have come to your Majesty as a matchmaker!"--"Art thou in thy senses, old woman?" cried the King, and his brow was wrinkled with a frown.--"Nay, O father-king! pray do not be angry; pray give me an answer. You have the wares--a little daughter, a beauty; I have the purchaser--a young man, so wise, so cunning, a master of every trade, so that you could not find a better son-in-law. Tell me, therefore, straight out, won't you give your daughter to my son?" The King listened and listened to the old woman, and at first his frown was blacker than night, but he thought to himself, "Does it become me, a king, to be wroth with a silly old woman?" And the royal councillors were amazed, for they saw the wrinkles on the King's forehead smoothing out, and the King looked at the old woman with a smile. "If thy son is so cunning, and a master of every trade, let him build me within twenty-four hours a palace more gorgeous than my own, and let him hang a crystal bridge between this palace and my palace, and let luxuriant apple trees grow up all along this bridge, and let them bear silver and golden pippins, and let birds of paradise sing within these apple trees. And on the right-hand side of this crystal bridge let him build a cathedral five storeys high, with golden pinnacles, where he may receive the wedding crown with my daughter, and where the marriage may be celebrated. But if thy son fulfil not all this, then for thy and his presumption I will have you both smeared with tar and rolled in feathers and down, and hanged up in cages in the market-place as a laughing-stock to all good people." And the King condescended to smile still more pleasantly, and his grandees and his councillors held their sides, and rolled about the floor for laughter, and they began with one voice to praise his wisdom and thought amongst themselves, "What fun it will be to see the old woman and her son hung up in cages! 'Tis as plain as daylight; a beard will sooner grow out of the palm of his hand than he be able to accomplish so shrewd a task." The poor old woman was near to swooning. "What!" said she to the King, "is this thy final sovereign word? Is this what I must say to my son?"--"Yes, thus must thou say: if he accomplish this task, I will give him my daughter; if he does not accomplish it, I will put you both into cages."

The poor old woman went home more dead than alive. She staggered from side to side, and shed floods of scalding tears. When she saw Martin, she began screeching at him from afar. "Did not I tell thee, my son, to go and chop thine own wood? Now thou seest that our poor little heads are lost." And she told her son all about it. "Cheer up, mother," said little Martin, "pray to G.o.d and lie down to sleep, the morning is always wiser than the evening." But he himself went out of the hut, took his little ring from one hand and put it on the other, and the twelve youths immediately appeared before him and said, "What dost thou require?" He told them of the royal task, and the twelve youths answered, "To-morrow, everything will be ready."

The King awoke next morning, and lo! right in front of his palace towered another palace, and a crystal bridge led from one to the other. Along the sides of the bridge stood luxuriant apple trees, and upon them hung golden pippins, and birds of paradise were singing in the trees; and on the right hand of the bridge, blazing like fire in the sun, stood the cathedral with its golden pinnacles; and the bells of the cathedral were ringing and pealing in all directions. The King had to keep his word. He raised his son-in-law high in rank, gave him a rich inheritance with his daughter, and he took her to wife. Great was the wedding-feast. The wine flowed in streams, and they drank of mead and beer till they could drink no more.

So Martin lived in his palace, and he ate of the best and drank of the best, and his life went as smoothly as cheese with b.u.t.ter. But the Princess did not love him at heart, and when she reflected that they had not married her to the son of a tsar, or the son of a king, or even to a prince from across the sea, but to simple Martin the widow's son, her wrath waxed hot within her. And she fell a-thinking by what means she might best rid herself of a husband she hated. So she took care to caress him, and flatter him, and waited upon him herself, and made him comfortable, and when they were quite alone she would ask him what it was that made him so wise and clever. And it happened one day that when he had been the King's guest, and had drunk and made merry with all his lords one after another, and had returned home and laid him down to rest, that the Princess came to him and caressed him, and coaxed him with wheedling words, and made him drunk with strong mead, and in that way found out what she wanted to know, for Martin told her all about his enchanted ring, and showed her how to turn it. And no sooner was little Martin asleep and snoring, than the Princess took off the enchanted ring from his little finger, went forth into the broad courtyard, moved the ring from one finger to the other, and the twelve youths immediately appeared before her. "What is thy pleasure, and what is thy desire?"--"That to-morrow morning there may be neither palace, nor bridge, nor cathedral on this spot, but only a wretched little hut as heretofore, and cast this drunkard into it, but remove me far from him into the Empire of Thrice-ten."--"It shall be done," replied the twelve youths with one voice.

In the morning, when the King awoke, he felt inclined to go and pay a visit to his son-in-law and his daughter, so he went out upon the balcony, and lo! there was neither palace, nor bridge, nor cathedral, nor garden. In place of them stood a wretched old hut, leaning on one side, and scarce able to stand at all. The King sent for his son-in-law, and began asking him what it all meant; but little Martin could only stare blankly at him without uttering a word. And the King bade them sit in judgment on his son-in-law for deceiving him by magic, and destroying his daughter, the thrice-lovely Princess, and they condemned Martin to be put on the top of a lofty stone column with nothing to eat or drink; there he was to be left to die of hunger.

Then it was that Jurka and Vaska remembered how little Martin had saved them from an evil death, and they came and laid their heads together about it. Jurka growled and snarled, and was ready to tear every one to bits, for his master's sake; but Vaska purred and hummed and scratched himself behind the ear with his velvet paw, and began to think the matter over. And the artful cat hit upon a plan, and said to Jurka, "Let us go for a walk about the town, and as soon as we meet a roll-baker with a tin on his head, you run between his legs and knock the tin off his head, and I'll be close behind and immediately seize the rolls, and take them to master." No sooner said than done. Jurka and the cat took a run into the town, and they met a roll-baker. He was carrying a tin on his head, and he looked about him on all sides and cried with a loud voice, "Hot rolls, hot rolls, fresh from the oven!" Jurka ran between his legs, the baker stumbled, the tin fell, and all the rolls were scattered about. But while the angry baker was chasing Jurka, Vaska hid all the rolls in the hedges. Then the cat and Jurka ran to the tower where Martin was placed, dragged with them the stores of bread, and Vaska scrambled up to the top, looked in at the little window, called to his master, and said, "Alive, eh?"--"Scarcely alive!" replied little Martin; "I am quite exhausted from want of food, and it will not be long before I die of hunger."--"Don't grieve; wait a bit, and we'll feed you," said Vaska, and he began to drag the food up from below--rolls and cakes, and all kinds of bread, till he had dragged up for his master a large store. Then he said, "Master, Jurka and I will go to the kingdom of Thrice-ten, and get you back your enchanted ring. Take care to make the bread last till we return." Then they both took leave of their master, and departed on their long journey.

They ran on and on, and they smelt out the scent everywhere and followed it; paid great attention to what people told them; carefully made friends with all the other dogs and cats they met; asked about the Princess, and found out at last that they were not far from the kingdom of Thrice-ten, whither she had told the twelve youths to carry her. They ran into the kingdom, went to the palace, and made friends with all the dogs and cats there, asked them all about the Princess's ways, and turned the conversation to the subject of the enchanted ring; but no one could give them certain information about it. But one day it happened that Vaska went a-hunting in the royal cellars. There he waylaid a big fat mouse, threw himself upon it, dug his cruel claws into it, and was going to begin with its head, when the big mouse spoke to him: "Dear little Vaska, don't hurt me, don't kill me. Perhaps I may be of service to you. I'll do all I can for you. But if you kill me, the Mouse-Tsar, all my mousey tsardom will fall to pieces."--"Very well," said Vaska; "I'll spare you; but this is the service you must do me. In this palace dwells the Princess, the wicked wife of our master; she has stolen from him his wonder-working ring; till you have got me that ring, I will not let you out of my claws under any pretence whatever."--Agreed," said the Mouse-Tsar, "I'll try"; and he piped and whistled all his people together. A countless mult.i.tude of mice a.s.sembled, both small and great, and they sat all round the cat Vaska, and waited to hear what the Mouse-Tsar would say to them from beneath Vaska's claws. And the Mouse-Tsar said to them: "Whichever of you shall get the wonder-working ring from the Princess, he will save me from a cruel death, and I will raise him to the highest place about my person." Then a little mouse rose up and said: "I have often been in the Princess's bed-chamber, and I've noticed that the Princess's eye rests more often on a certain little ring than on anything else. In the daytime she wears it on her little finger, but at night she stuffs it into her mouth behind her cheeks. If you wait a bit, I'll get you that ring." And the little mouse ran into the Princess's bed-chamber and waited till night, and as soon as ever the Princess was asleep, it wriggled into her bed, picked the down out of her swan-feathered bolster, and strewed it all about under her nose. The fine down went up the Princess's nose and into her mouth, she sprang up and began to sneeze and cough, and spat out the enchanted ring on to the counterpane. The little mouse immediately s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, and ran off with it to save the life of the Mouse-Tsar.

Vaska and Jurka set off to bring their master the wonder-working ring. Whether they took a long time or a short time matters not, but they arrived at last, and ran to the tower in which Martin was put to die from starvation. The cat immediately climbed up to the window, and called to its master, "Art thou alive, Martin the widow's son?"--"I am scarce able to keep body and soul together. This is the third day I have been sitting here without bread."--"Well, thy woes are over now. There will be a feast in your street now [57]; we have brought you your ring." Martin was overjoyed, and began to stroke the cat, and the cat rubbed itself against him, and began purring its own little songs through its nose; but at the bottom of the tower Jurka was leaping and whining and barking for joy, and leaping high in the air. Martin took the ring and turned it from one hand to the other. The twelve youths immediately appeared: "What is thy pleasure, and what thy command?"--"Give me to eat and drink till I can eat and drink no more, and let cunning music be played on the top of this tower to me all day." When the music began to play, the good folks hastened to the King, and told him that little Martin was up to no good in the tower there. "He ought to have ceased to be among the living long ago," they said, "and yet he is having such a merry time of it on the top of the tower. They are stamping with their feet, and knocking their plates, and clashing their gla.s.ses, and such splendid music is playing, that you can't help listening to it." The King sent an express messenger to the tower, and there he stood and listened to the music; the King sent his highest officer, and there they all remained standing, and opened wide their ears. The King himself went to the tower, and the music seemed to turn him into a statue. But little Martin again called his twelve youths, and said to them, "Restore my old palace, as it was before; throw a crystal bridge across from it to the royal palace; let the former five-storeyed cathedral stand by the side of the palace; and let my faithless wife also be found in the palace." And while he was yet expressing the wish, the whole thing was done. And he went out of the tower, took his father-in-law the King by the hand, led him into the palace, led him up to the sleeping-chamber, where the Princess, in fear and trembling, awaited an evil death, and said to the King, "My dear little father-in-law, a great deal of trouble and anguish has befallen me from living with thy daughter; what shall we sentence her to?"--"My dear son-in-law, let mercy prevail over justice; exhort her with good words, and live with her as heretofore." And Martin listened to his father-in-law, upbraided his wife for her treachery, and to the end of his life he never parted with the ring, nor with Jurka and Vaska, and saw no more misery.

THE BRAVE LABOURER.

A young fellow entered the service of a miller. The miller sent him to throw grain on the scoop, but the labourer, not knowing how to set about it, went and strewed the wheat on the mill-stone. The mill-wheel went round, and all the grain was scattered about. The master miller, when he came to the mill, and saw the scattered grain, sent the workman about his business. The workman went home and thought to himself, "Well, I haven't been very long working at the mill." So he went on his way thinking to himself, and so he missed the way to his own village. He strayed among the bushes, and wandered and wandered about till he came to a stream, and on the stream stood an empty mill, and in this mill he resolved to pa.s.s the night.

The dumb midnight hour approached; the labourer could not sleep in the empty mill; he listened to every rustling sound, and suddenly it was as though he heard some one approaching the mill. The poor labourer started up more dead than alive, and hid himself in the scoop. Three men entered the mill. Judging from their appearance they were no good people, but robbers. They lit a fire in the mill, and began to divide amongst themselves a rich booty. And one of the robbers said to the others, "I will lay my portion underneath the mill." The second said, "I'll shove mine underneath the wheel." But the third said, "I'll conceal my goods in the scoop." But our labourer was lying in the scoop, and he thought, "No man can die twice, but every man must die once. I wonder now if I can frighten them. Let us try." And he roared at the top of his voice: "Denis, you come down there; and you, Phocas, look on that side; and you, little one, look there, and I'll be here. Stop them, don't let them go, and beat them without mercy." The robbers were terrified, threw down their booty, took to their heels straightway, and the labourer took their booty and returned home richer than rich.

THE SAGE DAMSEL.

An old man and an old woman died, and left behind them a son young in years, who was rich neither in wits nor goods. His uncle took him home, gave him to eat and drink, and when he grew up sent him to watch the sheep. And one day he sent for his kinsman and resolved to test his wits; so he said to him: "Here thou hast a flock of sheep, drive them to market and make profit out of them in such a way that both thou and the sheep shall get fat upon it, and the sheep be all brought back whole, and yet all, to the very last one, be sold for ready money."

"How is that to be managed?" thought the orphan, who drove the sheep into the open field, sat by the roadside, and fell a-thinking. A lovely damsel pa.s.sed by that way, and she said to him: "Of what art thou thinking, good youth?"

"Why should I not be thinking? My uncle has taken a spite at last against me, a poor orphan; he has given me a task to do, and cudgel my brains as I may I cannot see how it is to be done."

"What task has he given thee?"