Meat and bread were set before the three brothers, and the prince went
out. The eldest said, “The prince is a slave;” the second, “This is
dog’s flesh;” the youngest, “This bread has grown over the legs of a
dead body.” The prince heard them. He took a knife and ran to find his
mother. “Tell me the truth,” cried he—“were you unfaithful to my father
during his absence? A man who is here has called me a slave.” “My son,”
replied she, “if I don’t tell the truth, I shall die; if I tell it, I
shall die. When thy father was absent, I gave myself up to a slave.” The
prince left his mother and ran to the house of the shepherd: “The meat
which you have cooked to-day—what is it? Tell the truth, otherwise I’ll
cut your head off.” “Master, if I tell it, I shall die; if I don’t, I
shall die. I will be truthful. It was a lamb whose mother had no milk;
on the day of its birth, it was suckled by a bitch: that is to-day’s
ewe.” The prince left the shepherd and ran to the house of the
husbandman: “Tell the truth, or else I’ll cut off your head. Three young
men have come to my house. I have placed bread before them, and they say
that the grain has grown over the limbs of a dead man.” “I will be frank
with you. I ploughed with my plough in a place where were [buried] the
limbs of a man; without knowing it, I sowed some wheat, which grew up.”
The prince quitted his slave and returned to his house, where were
seated the strangers. He said to the first, “Young man, how do you know
that I am a slave?” “Because you went out as soon as the repast was
brought in.” He asked the second, “How do you know that the meat which
was served to-day was that of a dog?” “Because it has a disagreeable
taste like the flesh of a dog.” Then to the third: “How come you to know
that this bread was grown over the limbs of a dead person?” “What shall
I say? It smells of the limbs of a dead body; that is why I recognised
it. If you do not believe me, ask your slave; he will tell you that what
I say is true.”
* * * * *
In the same paper (col. 516) M. René Basset cites a somewhat elaborate
variant, from Stier’s “Ungarische Sagen und Märchen,” in which, once
more, the knowledge of the “quintessence of things” is concentrated in a
single individual: