[Footnote D: _Posad_, or _posag_, a bench covered with white cloth on
which the bride and bridegroom sat down together.]
[Footnote E: Hearkener.]
[Footnote F: Heavysides.]
_The Grateful Cobra_
ONCE upon a time there was a rajah and ranee who were much grieved
because they had no children, and the little dog in the palace had also
no puppies. At last the Rajah and Ranee had some children, and it also
happened that the pet dog in the palace had some puppies; but,
unfortunately, the Ranee's two children were two puppies and the dog's
two puppies were two pretty little girls! This vexed her majesty very
much; and sometimes when the dog had gone away to its dinner, the Ranee
used to put the two puppies (her children) into the kennel, and carry
away the dog's two little girls to the palace. Then the poor dog grew
very unhappy, and said: "They never will leave my two little children
alone. I must take them away into the jungle, or their lives will be
worried out." So one night she took the little girls in her mouth and
ran with them to the jungle, and there made them a home in a pretty cave
in the rock, beside a clear stream; and every day she would go into the
towns and carry away some nice currie and rice to give her little
daughters; and if she found any pretty clothes or jewels that she could
bring away in her mouth, she used to take them also for the children.
Now it happened some time after this, one day, when the dog had gone to
fetch her daughters' dinner, two young princes (a rajah and his brother)
came to hunt in the jungle, and they hunted all day and found nothing.
It had been very hot, and they were thirsty; so they went to a tree
which grew on a little piece of high ground, and sent their attendants
to search all around for water; but no one could find any. At last one
of the hunting dogs came to the foot of the tree, quite muddy, and the
Rajah said: "Look, the dog is muddy: he must have found water; follow
him, and see where he goes." The attendants followed the dog, and saw
him go to the stream at the mouth of the cave where the two children
were; and the two children also saw them, and were very much frightened
and ran inside the cave. Then the attendants returned to the two princes
and said: "We have found clear, sparkling water flowing past a cave,
and, what is more, within the cave are two of the most lovely young
ladies that eye ever beheld, clothed in fine dresses and covered with
jewels; but when they saw us they were frightened and ran away." On
hearing this the princes bade their servants lead them to the place; and
when they saw the two young girls, they were quite charmed with them,
and asked them to go to their kingdom and become their wives. The
maidens were frightened; but at last the Rajah and his brother persuaded
them, and they went, and the Rajah married the elder sister, and his
brother married the younger.
When the dog returned, she was grieved to find her children gone, and
for twelve long years the poor thing ran many, many miles to find them,
but in vain. At last one day she came to the place where the two
princesses lived. Now it chanced that the elder, the wife of the Rajah,
was looking out of the window, and seeing the dog run down the street,
she said: "That must be my dear, long-lost mother." So she ran into the
street as fast as possible, and took the tired dog in her arms, and
brought her into her own room, and made her a nice comfortable bed on
the floor, and bathed her feet, and was very kind to her. Then the dog
said to her: "My daughter, you are good and kind, and it is a great joy
to me to see you again, but I must not stay; I will first go and see
your younger sister, and then return." The Ranee answered: "Do not do
so, dear mother; rest here to-day; to-morrow I will send and let my
sister know, and she, too, will come and see you." But the poor, silly
dog would not stay, but ran to the house of her second daughter. Now the
second daughter was looking out of the window when the unfortunate
creature came to the door, and seeing the dog she said to herself: "That
must be my mother. What will my husband think if he learns that this
wretched, ugly, miserable-looking dog is my mother?" So she ordered her
servants to go and throw stones at it, and drive it away, and they did
so; and one large stone hit the dog's head, and she ran back, very much
hurt, to her elder daughter's house. The Ranee saw her coming, and ran
out into the street and brought her in in her arms, and did all she
could to make her well, saying: "Ah, mother, mother! why did you ever
leave my house?" But all her care was in vain: the poor dog died. Then
the Ranee thought her husband might be vexed if he found a dead dog (an
unclean animal) in the palace; so she put the body in a small room into
which the Rajah hardly ever went, intending to have it reverently
buried; and over it she placed a basket turned topsy-turvy.
It so happened, however, that when the Rajah came to visit his wife, as
chance would have it, he went through this very room; and tripping over
the upturned basket, called for a light to see what it was. Then, lo and
behold! there lay the statue of a dog, life-size, composed entirely of
diamonds, emeralds, and other precious stones, set in gold! So he called
out to his wife, and said: "Where did you get this beautiful dog?" And
when the Ranee saw the golden dog, she was very much frightened, and,
I'm sorry to say, instead of telling her husband the truth, she told a
story, and said, "Oh, it is only a present my parents sent me."
Now see what trouble she got into for not telling the truth.
"_Only!_" said the Rajah; "why this is valuable enough to buy the whole
of my kingdom. Your parents must be very rich people to be able to send
you such presents as this. How is it you never told me of them? Where do
they live?" Now she had to tell another story to cover the first. She
said: "In the jungle." He replied: "I will go and see them; you must
take me and show me where they live." Then the Ranee thought: "What will
the Rajah say when he finds I have been telling him such stories? He
will order my head to be cut off." So she said, "You must first give me
a palanquin, and I will go into the jungle and tell them you are
coming"; but really she had determined to kill herself, and so get out
of her difficulties. Away she went; and when she had gone some distance
in her palanquin, she saw a large white ants' nest, over which hung a
cobra, with his mouth wide open; then the Ranee thought: "I will go to
that cobra and put my finger in his mouth, that he may bite me, and so I
shall die." So she ordered the palkee bearers to wait, and said she
would be back in a while, and got out, and ran to the ants' nest, and
put her finger in the cobra's mouth. Now a large thorn had run, a short
time before, into the cobra's throat, and hurt him very much; and the
Ranee, by putting her finger into his mouth, pushed out this thorn; then
the cobra, feeling much better, turned to her, and said: "My dear
daughter, you have done me a great kindness; what return can I make
you?" The Ranee told him all her story, and begged him to bite her, that
she might die. But the cobra said: "You certainly did very wrong to tell
the Rajah that story; nevertheless, you have been very kind to me. I
will help you in your difficulty. Send your husband here. I will provide
you with a father and mother of whom you need not be ashamed." So the
Ranee returned joyfully to the palace, and invited her husband to come
and see her parents.
When they reached the spot near where the cobra was, what a wonderful
sight awaited them! There, in the place which had before been thick
jungle, stood a splendid palace, twenty-four miles long and twenty-four
miles broad, with gardens and trees and fountains all around; and the
light shining from it was to be seen a hundred miles off. The walls
were made of gold and precious stones, and the carpets, cloth of gold.
Hundreds of servants, in rich dresses, stood waiting in the long, lofty
rooms; and in the last room of all, upon golden thrones, sat a
magnificent old Rajah and Ranee, who introduced themselves to the young
Rajah as his papa- and mamma-in-law. The Rajah and Ranee stayed at the
palace six months, and were entertained the whole of that time with
feasting and music; and they left for their own home loaded with
presents. Before they started, however, the Ranee went to her friend,
the cobra, and said: "You have conjured up all these beautiful things to
get me out of my difficulties, but my husband, the Rajah has enjoyed his
visit so much that he will certainly want to come here again. Then, if
he returns and finds nothing at all, he will be very angry with me." The
friendly cobra answered: "Do not fear. When you have gone twenty-four
miles on your journey, look back, and see what you will see." So they
started; and on looking back at the end of twenty-four miles, saw the
whole of the splendid palace in flames, the fire reaching up to heaven.
The Rajah returned to see if he could help anybody to escape, or invite
them in their distress to his court; but he found that all was burned
down--not a stone nor a living creature remained!
Then he grieved much over the sad fate of his parents-in-law.
When the party returned home, the Rajah's brother said to him: "Where
did you get these magnificent presents?" He replied: "They are gifts
from my father- and mother-in-law." At this news the Rajah's brother
went home to his wife very discontented, and asked her why she had never
told him of her parents, and taken him to see them, whereby he might
have received rich gifts as well as his brother. His wife then went to
her sister, and asked how she had managed to get all the things. But the
Ranee said: "Go away, you wicked woman, I will not speak to you. You
killed the poor dog, our mother."
But afterwards she told her all about it.
The sister then said: "I shall go and see the cobra, and get presents
too." The Ranee then answered: "You can go if you like."
So the sister ordered her palanquin, and told her husband she was going
to see her parents, and prepare them for a visit from him. When she
reached the ants' nest she saw the cobra there, and she went and put her
finger in his mouth, and the cobra bit her, and she died.
_The Magic Ring_
ONCE upon a time there lived an old couple who had one son called
Martin. Now, when the old man's time had come he stretched himself out
on his bed and died. Though all his life long he had toiled and moiled,
he only left his widow and son two hundred florins. The old woman
determined to put by the money for a rainy day, but, alas! the rainy day
was close at hand, for their meal was all consumed, and who is prepared
to face starvation with two hundred florins at their disposal? So the
old woman counted out one hundred florins, and giving them to Martin,
told him to go into the town and lay in a store of meal for a year.
So Martin started off for the town. When he reached the meat market he
found the whole place in turmoil and a great noise of angry voices and
barking of dogs. Mixing in the crowd, he noticed a stag hound which the
butchers had caught and tied to a post, and which was being flogged in a
merciless manner. Overcome with pity, Martin spoke to the butchers,
saying:
"Friends, why are you beating the poor dog so cruelly?"
"We have every right to beat him," they replied. "He has just devoured a
newly killed pig."
"Leave off beating him," said Martin, "and sell him to me instead."
"If you choose to buy him," answered the butchers derisively; "but for
such a treasure we won't take a penny less than one hundred florins."
"A hundred!" exclaimed Martin. "Well, so be it, if you will not take
less"; and taking the money out of his pocket he handed it over in
exchange for the dog, whose name was Schurka.
When Martin got home his mother met him with the question:
"Well, what have you bought?"
"Schurka, the dog," replied Martin, pointing to his new possession.
Whereupon his mother became very angry and abused him roundly. He ought
to be ashamed of himself, when there was scarcely a handful of meal in
the house, to have spent the money on a useless brute like that. On the
following day she sent him back to the town, saying: "Here, take our
last one hundred florins and buy provisions with them. I have just
emptied the last grains of meal out of the chest and baked a bannock;
but it won't last over to-morrow."
Just as Martin was entering the town he met a rough-looking peasant who
was dragging a cat after him by a string which was fastened around the
poor beast's neck.
"Stop!" cried Martin. "Where are you dragging that poor cat?"
"I mean to drown it," was the answer.
"What harm has the poor beast done?" said Martin.
"It has just killed a goose," replied the peasant.
"Don't drown it--sell it to me instead," begged Martin.
"Not for one hundred florins," was the answer.
"Surely for one hundred florins you'll sell it?" said Martin. "See! here
is the money." And so saying he handed him the one hundred florins,
which the peasant pocketed, and Martin took possession of the cat, which
was called Waska.
When he reached his home his mother greeted him with the question:
"Well, what have you brought back?"
"I have brought this cat, Waska," answered Martin.
"And what besides?"
"I had no money over to buy anything else with," replied Martin.
"You useless ne'er-do-weel!" exclaimed his mother in a great passion.
"Leave the house at once and go and beg your bread among strangers," And
as Martin did not dare to contradict her, he called Schurka and Waska
and started off with them to the nearest village in search of work. On
the way he met a rich peasant, who asked him where he was going.
"I want to get work as a day laborer," he answered.
"Come along with me, then. But I must tell you I engage my laborers
without wages. If you serve me faithfully for a year I promise you it
shall be to your advantage."
So Martin consented, and for a year he worked diligently and served his
master faithfully, not sparing himself in any way. When the day of
reckoning had come the peasant led him into a barn, and pointing to two
full sacks said: "Take whichever of these you choose."
Martin examined the contents of the sacks, and seeing that one was full
of silver and the other of sand, he said to himself: "There must be some
trick about this. I had better take the sand." And throwing the sack
over his shoulders he started out into the world in search of fresh
work. On and on he walked, and at last he reached a great gloomy wood.
In the middle of the wood he came upon a meadow, where a fire was
burning, and in the midst of the fire, surrounded by flames, was a
lovely damsel, more beautiful than anything that Martin had ever seen,
and when she saw him she called to him:
"Martin, if you would win happiness save my life. Extinguish the flames
with the sand that you earned in payment of your faithful service."
"Truly," thought Martin to himself, "it would be more sensible to save a
fellow-being's life with this sand than to drag it about on one's back,
seeing what a weight it is." And forthwith he lowered the sack from his
shoulders and emptied its contents on the flames, and instantly the
fire was extinguished; but at the same moment lo and behold! the lovely
damsel turned into a serpent and darting upon him coiled itself around
his neck and whispered lovingly in his ear:
"Do not be afraid of me, Martin. I love you and will go with you through
the world. But first you must follow me boldly into my father's kingdom,
underneath the earth; and when we get there, remember this--he will
offer you gold and silver and dazzling gems, but do not touch them. Ask
him, instead, for the ring which he wears on his little finger, for in
that ring lies a magic power. You have only to throw it from one hand to
the other, and at once twelve young men will appear who will do your
bidding, no matter how difficult it is, in a single night."
So they started on their way, and after much wandering they reached a
spot where a great rock rose straight up in the middle of the road.
Instantly the serpent uncoiled itself from his neck, and as it touched
the damp earth it resumed the shape of the lovely damsel. Pointing to
the rock, she showed him an opening just big enough for a man to wriggle
through. Passing into it, they entered a long underground passage which
led out on to a wide field above which spread a blue sky. In the middle
of the field stood a magnificent castle built out of porphyry, with a
roof of gold and with glittering battlements. And his beautiful guide
told him that this was the palace in which her father lived and reigned
over his kingdom in the underworld.
Together they entered the palace and were received by the King with
great kindness. Turning to his daughter he said:
"My child, I had almost given up the hope of ever seeing you again.
Where have you been all these years?"
"My father," she replied, "I owe my life to this youth, who saved me
from a terrible death."
Upon which the King turned to Martin with a gracious smile, saying: "I
will reward your courage by granting you whatever your heart desires.
Take as much gold, silver, and precious stones as you choose."
"I thank you, mighty King, for your gracious offer," answered Martin,
"but I do not covet either gold, silver, or precious stones; yet if you
will grant me a favor, give me, I beg, the ring from off the little
finger of your royal hand. Every time my eye falls on it I shall think
of your gracious majesty, and when I marry I shall present it to my
bride."
So the King took the ring from his finger and gave it to Martin, saying:
"Take it, good youth; but with it I make one condition--you are never to
confide to anyone that this is a magic ring. If you do, you will
straightway bring misfortune on yourself."
Martin took the ring, and having thanked the King he set out on the same
road by which he had come down into the underworld. When he had regained
the upper air he started for his old home, and having found his mother
still living in the old house where he had left her, they settled down
together very happily. So uneventful was their life that it almost
seemed as if it would go on in this way always without let or hindrance.
But one day it suddenly came into his mind that he would like to get
married, and, moreover, that he would choose a very grand wife--a king's
daughter, in short. But as he did not trust himself as a wooer, he
determined to send his old mother on the mission.
"You must go to the King," he said to her, "and demand the hand of his
lovely daughter in marriage for me."
"What are you thinking of, my son?" answered the old woman, aghast at
the idea. "Why cannot you marry some one in your own rank? That would be
far more fitting than to send a poor old woman like me a-wooing to the
King's court for the hand of a princess. Why, it is as much as our heads
are worth. Neither my life nor yours would be worth anything if I went
on such a fool's errand."
"Never fear, little mother," answered Martin. "Trust me; all will be
well. But see that you do not come back without an answer of some kind."
And so, obedient to her son's behest, the old woman hobbled off to the
palace, and without being hindered reached the courtyard and began to
mount the flight of steps leading to the royal presence chamber. At the
head of the landing rows of courtiers were collected in magnificent
attire, who stared at the queer old figure, and called to her and
explained to her with every kind of sign that it was strictly forbidden
to mount those steps. But their stern words and forbidding gestures made
no impression whatever on the old woman, and she resolutely continued to
climb the stairs, bent on carrying out her son's orders. Upon this some
of the courtiers seized her by the arms and held her back by sheer
force, at which she set up such a yell that the King himself heard it
and stepped out on to the balcony to see what was the matter. When he
beheld the old woman flinging her arms wildly about and heard her scream
that she would not leave the place till she had laid her case before the
King, he ordered that she should be brought into his presence. And
forthwith she was conducted into the golden presence chamber, where,
leaning back among cushions of royal purple, the King sat, surrounded by
his counselors and courtiers. Courtesying low, the old woman stood
silent before him.
"Well, my good old dame, what can I do for you?" asked the King.
"I have come," replied Martin's mother--"and your majesty must not be
angry with me--I have come a-wooing."
"Is the woman out of her mind?" said the King, with an angry frown.
But Martin's mother answered boldly: "If the King will only listen
patiently to me and give me a straightforward answer, he will see that I
am not out of my mind. You, O King, have a lovely daughter to give in
marriage. I have a son--a wooer--as clever a youth and as good a
son-in-law as you will find in your whole kingdom. There is nothing that
he cannot do. Now tell me, O King, plump and plain, will you give your
daughter to my son as wife?"
The King listened to the end of the old woman's strange request, but
every moment his face grew blacker and his features sterner, till all at
once he thought to himself: "Is it worth while that I, the King, should
be angry with this poor old fool?" And all the courtiers and counselors
were amazed when they saw the hard lines around his mouth and the frown
on his brow grow smooth, and heard the mild but mocking tones in which
he answered the old woman, saying:
"If your son is as wonderfully clever as you say, and if there is
nothing in the world that he cannot do, let him build a magnificent
castle, just opposite my palace windows, in twenty-four hours. The
palaces must be joined together by a bridge of pure crystal. On each
side of the bridge there must be growing trees, having golden and silver
apples and with birds of paradise among the branches. At the right of
the bridge there must be a church with five golden cupolas. In this
church your son shall be wedded to my daughter, and we will keep the
wedding festivities in the new castle. But if he fails to execute this
my royal command, then, as a just but mild monarch, I shall give orders
that you and he be taken and first dipped in tar and then in feathers,
and you shall be executed in the market place for the entertainment of
my courtiers."
And a smile played around the King's lips as he finished speaking, and
his courtiers and counselors shook with laughter when they thought of
the old woman's folly, and praised the King's wise device and said to
each other: "What a joke it will be when we see the pair of them tarred
and feathered! The son is just as able to grow a beard on the palm of
his hand as to execute such a task in twenty-four hours."
Now, the poor old woman was mortally afraid, and in a trembling voice
she asked:
"Is that really your royal will, O King? Must I take this order to my
poor son?"
"Yes, old dame; such is my command. If your son carries out my order he
shall be rewarded with my daughter; but if he fails, away to the tar
barrel and the stake with you both!"
On her way home the poor old woman shed bitter tears, and when she saw
Martin she told him what the King had said, and sobbed out:
"Didn't I tell you, my son, that you should marry some one of your own
rank? It would have been better for us this day if you had. As I told
you, my going to court has been as much as our lives are worth, and now
we will both be tarred and feathered and burned in the public market
place. It is terrible!" And she moaned and cried.
"Never fear, little mother," answered Martin. "Trust me, and you will
see all will be well. You may go to sleep with a quiet mind."
And stepping to the front of the hut Martin threw his ring from the palm
of one hand into the other, upon which twelve youths instantly appeared
and demanded what he wanted them to do. Then he told them the King's
commands, and they answered that by next morning all should be
accomplished exactly as the King had ordered.
Next morning when the King awoke and looked out of his window, to his
amazement he beheld a magnificent castle, just opposite his own palace,
and joined to it by a bridge of pure crystal.
At each side of the bridge trees were growing, from whose branches hung
golden and silver apples, among which birds of paradise perched. At the
right, gleaming in the sun, were the five golden cupolas of a splendid
church, whose bells rang out as if they would summon people from all
corners of the earth to come and behold the wonder. Now, though the King
would much rather have seen his future son-in-law tarred, feathered, and
burned at the stake, he remembered his royal oath and had to make the
best of a bad business. So he took heart of grace and made Martin a
duke, and gave his daughter a rich dowry, and prepared the grandest
wedding feast that had ever been seen, so that to this day the old
people in the country still talk of it.
After the wedding Martin and his royal bride went to dwell in the
magnificent new palace, and here Martin lived in the greatest comfort
and luxury, such luxury as he had never imagined. But though he was as
happy as the day was long and as merry as a grig, the King's daughter
fretted all day, thinking of the indignity that had been done her in
making her marry Martin, the poor widow's son, instead of a rich young
prince from a foreign country. So unhappy was she that she spent all her
time wondering how she should get rid of her undesirable husband. And
first she determined to learn the secret of his power, and with
flattering, caressing words she tried to coax him to tell her how he was
so clever that there was nothing in the world that he could not do. At
first he would tell her nothing; but once, when he was in a yielding
mood, she approached him with a winning smile on her lovely face, and
speaking flattering words to him she gave him a potion to drink, with a
sweet, strong taste. And when he had drunk it Martin's lips were
unsealed, and he told her that all his power lay in the magic ring that
he wore on his finger, and he described to her how to use it, and still
speaking he fell into a deep sleep. And when she saw that the potion had
worked and that he was sound asleep, the Princess took the magic ring
from his finger, and going into the courtyard she threw it from the palm
of one hand into the other. On the instant the twelve youths appeared
and asked her what she commanded them to do. Then she told them that by
the next morning they were to do away with the castle and the bridge and
the church, and put in their stead the humble hut in which Martin used
to live with his mother, and that while he slept her husband was to be
carried to his old lowly room; and that they were to bear her away to
the utmost ends of the earth, where an old king lived who would make her
welcome in his palace and surround her with the state that befitted a
royal princess.
"You shall be obeyed," answered the twelve youths at the same moment.
And lo and behold! the following morning when the King woke and looked
out of his window he beheld to his amazement that the palace, bridge,
church, and trees had all vanished, and there was nothing in their place
but a bare, miserable-looking hut.
Immediately the King sent for his son-in-law and commanded him to
explain what had happened. But Martin looked at his royal father-in-law
and answered never a word. Then the King was very angry, and calling a
council together, he charged Martin with having been guilty of
witchcraft, and of having deceived the King, and having made away with
the Princess; and he was condemned to imprisonment in a high stone
tower, with neither meat nor drink, till he should die of starvation.
Then, in the hour of his dire necessity, his old friends Schurka (the
dog) and Waska (the cat) remembered how Martin had once saved them from
a cruel death; and they took counsel together as to how they should help
him. And Schurka growled and was of opinion that he would like to tear
everyone in pieces; but Waska purred meditatively, scratched the back of
her ear with a velvet paw, and remained lost in thought. At the end of a
few minutes she had made up her mind, and turning to Schurka, said: "Let
us go together into the town, and the moment we meet a baker you must
make a rush between his legs and upset the tray from off his head. I
will lay hold of the rolls and will carry them off to our master." No
sooner said than done. Together the two faithful creatures trotted off
into the town, and very soon they met a baker bearing a tray on his head
and looking around on all sides while he cried:
"Fresh rolls, sweet cake,
Fancy bread of every kind,
Come and buy, come and take,
Sure you'll find it to your mind."
At that moment Schurka made a rush between his legs--the baker stumbled,
the tray was upset, the rolls fell to the ground, and while the man
angrily pursued Schurka, Waska managed to drag the rolls out of sight
behind a bush. And when a moment later Schurka joined her, they set off
at full tilt to the stone tower where Martin was a prisoner, taking the
rolls with them. Waska, being very agile, climbed up by the outside to
the grated window and called in an anxious voice:
"Are you alive, master?"
"Scarcely alive--almost starved to death," answered Martin in a weak
voice. "I little thought it would come to this, that I should die of
hunger."
"Never fear, dear master. Schurka and I will look after you," said
Waska. And in another moment she had climbed down and brought him back a
roll, and then another and another till she had brought him the whole
tray load. Upon which she said: "Dear master, Schurka and I are going
off to a distant kingdom at the utmost ends of the earth to fetch you
back your magic ring. You must be careful that the rolls last till our
return."
And Waska took leave of her beloved master and set off with Schurka on
their journey. On and on they traveled, looking always to right and left
for traces of the Princess, following up every track, making inquiries
of every cat and dog they met, listening to the talk of every wayfarer
they passed; and at last they heard that the kingdom at the utmost ends
of the earth, where the twelve youths had borne the Princess, was not
very far off. And one day they reached that distant kingdom, and going
at once to the palace they began to make friends with all the dogs and
cats in the place and to question them about the Princess and the magic
ring; but no one could tell them much about either. Now, one day it
chanced that Waska had gone down to the palace cellar to hunt for mice
and rats, and seeing an especially fat, well-fed mouse, she pounced upon
it, buried her claws in its soft fur, and was just going to gobble it up
when she was stopped by the pleading tones of the little creature,
saying: "If you will only spare my life I will be of great service to
you. I will do everything in my power for you; for I am the king of the
mice, and if I perish the whole race will die out."
"So be it," said Waska. "I will spare your life, but in return you must
do something for me. In this castle there lives a princess, the wicked
wife of my dear master. She has stolen away his magic ring. You must get
it away from her at whatever cost. Do you hear? Till you have done this
I won't take my claws out of your fur."
"Good!" replied the mouse. "I will do what you ask." And so saying he
summoned all the mice in his kingdom together. A countless number of
mice, small and big, brown and gray, assembled and formed a circle
around their king, who was a prisoner under Waska's claws. Turning to
them he said: "Dear and faithful subjects, whoever among you will steal
the magic ring from the strange Princess will release me from a cruel
death, and I shall honor him above all the other mice in the kingdom."
Instantly a tiny mouse stepped forward and said: "I often creep about
the Princess's bedroom at night, and I have noticed that she has a ring
which she treasures as the apple of her eye. All day she wears it on her
finger, and at night she keeps it in her mouth. I will undertake, sire,
to steal away the ring for you."
And the tiny mouse tripped away into the bedroom of the Princess and
waited for nightfall; then, when the Princess had fallen asleep, it
crept up on to her bed and gnawed a hole in the pillow, through which it
dragged, one by one, little down feathers and threw them under the
Princess's nose. And the fluff flew into the Princess's nose and into
her mouth, and starting up she sneezed and coughed, and the ring fell
out of her mouth on to the coverlet. In a flash the tiny mouse had
seized it and brought it to Waska as a ransom for the king of the mice.
Thereupon Waska and Schurka started off and traveled night and day till
they reached the stone tower where Martin was imprisoned; and the cat
climbed up the window and called out to him:
"Martin, dear master, are you still alive?"
"Ah! Waska, my faithful little cat, is that you?" replied a weak voice.
"I am dying of hunger. For three days I have not tasted food."
"Be of good heart, dear master," replied Waska. "From this day forth,
you will know nothing but happiness and prosperity. If this were a
moment to trouble you with riddles, I would make you guess what Schurka
and I have brought you back. Only think, we have found you your ring!"
At these words Martin's joy knew no bounds, and he stroked her fondly
and she rubbed up against him and purred happily, while below Schurka
bounded in the air and barked joyfully. Then Martin took the ring and
threw it from one hand into the other, and instantly the twelve youths
appeared and asked what they were to do.
"Fetch me first something to eat and drink as quickly as possible; and
after that bring musicians hither and let us have music all day long."
Now, when the people in the town and palace heard music coming from the
tower they were filled with amazement, and came to the King with the
news that witchcraft must be going on in Martin's tower, for instead of
dying of starvation he was seemingly making merry to the sound of music
and to the clatter of plates and glass and knives and forks; and the
music was so enchantingly sweet that all the passers-by stood still to
listen to it. On this the King sent at once a messenger to Starvation
Tower, and he was so astonished with what he saw that he remained rooted
to the spot. Then the King sent his chief counselors, and they too were
transfixed with wonder. At last the King came himself, and he likewise
was spellbound by the beauty of the music.
Then Martin summoned the twelve youths and said to them: "Build up my
castle again and join it to the King's palace with a crystal bridge. Do
not forget the trees with the golden and silver apples and with the
birds of paradise in the branches, and put back the church with the five
cupolas, and let the bells ring out, summoning the people from the four
corners of the kingdom. And one thing more--bring back my faithless wife
and lead her into the women's chamber."
And it was all done as he commanded, and leaving Starvation Tower he
took the King, his father-in-law, by the arm and led him into the new
palace, where the Princess sat in fear and trembling awaiting her death.
And Martin spoke to the King, saying: "King and royal father, I have
suffered much at the hands of your daughter. What punishment shall be
dealt to her?"
Then the mild King answered: "Beloved Prince and son-in-law, if you love
me, let your anger be turned to grace--forgive my daughter and restore
her to your heart and favor."
And Martin's heart was softened and he forgave his wife, and they lived
happily together ever after. And his old mother came and lived with
them, and he never parted with Schurka and Waska; and I need hardly tell
you that he never again let the ring out of his possession.
_Tit for Tat_
THERE once lived a camel and a jackal who were great friends. One day
the Jackal said to the Camel: "I know that there is a fine field of
sugar cane on the other side of the river. If you will take me across,
I'll show you the place. This plan will suit me as well as you. You will
enjoy eating the sugar cane, and I am sure to find many crabs, bones,
and bits of fish by the riverside, on which to make a good dinner."
The Camel consented and swam across the river, taking the Jackal, who
could not swim, on his back. When they reached the other side, the Camel
went to eating the sugar cane, and the Jackal ran up and down the river
bank devouring all the crabs, bits of fish, and bones he could find.
But being so much smaller an animal, he had made an excellent meal
before the Camel had eaten more than two or three mouthfuls; and no
sooner had he finished his dinner than he ran round and round the
sugar-cane field, yelping and howling with all his might.
The villagers heard him, and thought: "There is a jackal among the sugar
canes; he will be scratching holes in the ground and spoiling the roots
of the plants." And they all went down to the place to drive him away.
But when they got there they found to their surprise not only a jackal,
but a camel who was eating the sugar canes! This made them very angry,
and they caught the poor Camel and drove him from the field and beat and
beat him until he was nearly dead.
When they had gone, the Jackal said to the Camel, "We had better go
home." And the Camel said: "Very well; then jump upon my back as you did
before."
So the Jackal jumped upon the Camel's back, and the Camel began to
recross the river. When they had got well into the water the Camel said:
"This is a pretty way in which you have treated me, friend Jackal. No
sooner had you finished your own dinner than you must go yelping about
the place loud enough to arouse the whole village, and bring all the
villagers down to beat me black and blue, and turn me out of the field
before I had eaten two mouthfuls! What in the world did you make such a
noise for?"
"I don't know," said the Jackal. "It is a habit I have. I always like to
sing a little after dinner."
The Camel waded on through the river. The water reached up to his
knees--then above them--up, up, up, higher and higher, until he was
obliged to swim. Then turning to the Jackal he said, "I feel very
anxious to roll." "Oh, pray don't; why do you wish to do so?" asked the
Jackal. "I don't know," answered the Camel. "It is a habit I have. I
always like to have a little roll after dinner." So saying, he rolled
over in the water, shaking the Jackal off as he did so. And the Jackal
was drowned, but the Camel swam safely ashore.
_The Brahman, the Tiger, and the Six Judges_
ONCE upon a time a Brahman, who was walking along the road, came upon an
iron cage, in which a great tiger had been shut up by the villagers who
caught him.
As the Brahman passed by, the Tiger called out and said to him: "Brother
Brahman, brother Brahman, have pity on me, and let me out of this cage
for one minute only to drink a little water, for I am dying of thirst."
The Brahman answered: "No, I will not; for if I let you out of the cage
you will eat me."
"Oh, father of mercy," answered the Tiger, "in truth that I will not. I
will never be so ungrateful; only let me out, that I may drink some
water and return." Then the Brahman took pity on him and opened the cage
door; but no sooner had he done so than the Tiger, jumping out, said:
"Now, I will eat you first and drink the water afterwards." But the
Brahman said: "Only do not kill me hastily. Let us first ask the opinion
of six, and if all of them say it is just and fair that you should put
me to death, then I am willing to die."
"Very well," answered the Tiger, "it shall be as you say; we will first
ask the opinion of six."
So the Brahman and the Tiger walked on till they came to a Banyan tree;
and the Brahman said to it: "Banyan Tree, Banyan Tree, hear and give
judgment." "On what must I give judgment?" asked the Banyan Tree. "This
Tiger," said the Brahman, "begged me to let him out of his cage to drink
a little water, and he promised not to hurt me if I did so; but now,
that I have let him out, he wishes to eat me. Is it just that he should
do so or no?"
The Banyan Tree answered: "Men often come to take shelter in the cool
shade under my boughs from the scorching rays of the sun; but when they
have rested, they cut and break my pretty branches and wantonly scatter
my leaves. Let the Tiger eat the man, for men are an ungrateful race."
At these words the Tiger would have instantly killed the Brahman, but
the Brahman said: "Tiger, Tiger, you must not kill me yet, for you
promised that we should first hear the judgment of six." "Very well,"
said the Tiger, and they went on their way. After a little while they
met a camel. "Sir Camel, Sir Camel," cried the Brahman, "hear and give
judgment." "On what shall I give judgment?" asked the Camel. And the
Brahman related how the Tiger had begged him to open the cage door, and
promised not to eat him if he did so; and how he had afterwards
determined to break his word, and asked if that were just or not. The
Camel replied: "When I was young and strong, and could do much work, my
master took care of me and gave me good food; but now that I am old, and
have lost all my strength in his service, he overloads me and starves me
and beats me without mercy. Let the Tiger eat the man, for men are an
unjust and cruel race."
The Tiger would then have killed the Brahman, but the latter said:
"Stop, Tiger, for we must first hear the judgment of six."
So they both went again on their way. At a little distance they found a
bullock lying by the roadside. The Brahman said to him: "Brother
Bullock, brother Bullock, hear and give judgment." "On what must I give
judgment?" asked the Bullock. The Brahman answered: "I found this Tiger
in a cage, and he prayed me to open the door and let him out to drink a
little water, and promised not to kill me if I did so; but when I had
let him out he resolved to put me to death. Is it fair that he should do
so or not?" The Bullock said: "When I was able to work my master fed me
well and tended me carefully, but now I am old he has forgotten all I
did for him, and left me by the roadside to die. Let the Tiger eat the
man, for men have no pity."
Three out of the six had given judgment against the Brahman, but still
he did not lose all hope and determined to ask the other three.
They next met an eagle flying through the air, to whom the Brahman
cried, "O Eagle, great Eagle, hear and give judgment." "On what must I
give judgment?" asked the Eagle. The Brahman stated the case, and the
Eagle answered: "Whenever men see me they try to shoot me; they climb
the rocks and steal away my little ones. Let the Tiger eat the man, for
men are the persecutors of the earth."
Then the Tiger began to roar and said: "The judgment of all is against
you, O Brahman!" But the Brahman answered: "Stay yet a little longer,
for two others must first be asked." After this they saw an alligator,
and the Brahman related the matter to him, hoping for a more favorable
verdict. But the Alligator said: "Whenever I put my nose out of the
water men torment me and try to kill me. Let the Tiger eat the man, for
as long as men live we shall have no rest."
The Brahman gave himself up as lost; but again he prayed the Tiger to
have patience and let him ask the opinion of the sixth judge. Now the
sixth was a jackal. The Brahman told his story, and said to him: "Uncle
Jackal, Uncle Jackal, say what is your judgment?" The Jackal answered:
"It is impossible for me to decide who is in the right and who in the
wrong unless I see the exact position in which you were when the dispute
began. Show me the place." So the Brahman and the Tiger returned to the
place where they first met, and the Jackal went with them. When they got
there, the Jackal said: "Now Brahman, show me exactly where you stood."
"Here," said the Brahman, standing by the iron tiger cage. "Exactly
there, was it?" asked the Jackal. "Exactly here," replied the Brahman.
"Where was the Tiger, then?" asked the Jackal. "In the cage," answered
the Tiger. "How do you mean?" said the Jackal; "how were you within the
cage? which way were you looking?" "Why, I stood so," said the Tiger,
jumping into the cage, "and my head was on this side." "Very good," said
the Jackal, "but I cannot judge without understanding the whole matter
exactly. Was the cage door open or shut?" "Shut and bolted," said the
Brahman. "Then shut and bolt it," said the Jackal.
When the Brahman had done this, the Jackal said: "Oh, you wicked and
ungrateful Tiger! when the good Brahman opened your cage door, is to eat
him the only return you would make? Stay there, then, for the rest of
your days, for no one will ever let you out again. Proceed on your
journey, friend Brahman. Your road lies that way and mine this."
So saying, the Jackal ran off in one direction, and the Brahman went
rejoicing on his way in the other.
_Muchie Lal_
ONCE upon a time there were a rajah and ranee who had no children. Long
had they wished and prayed that the gods would send them a son, but it
was all in vain--their prayers were not granted. One day a number of
fish were brought into the royal kitchen to be cooked for the Rajah's
dinner, and among them was one little fish that was not dead, though all
the rest were dead. One of the palace maid servants seeing this, took
the little fish and put him in a basin of water. Shortly afterwards the
Ranee saw him, and, thinking him very pretty, kept him as a pet; and
because she had no children she lavished all her affection on the fish
and loved him as a son; and the people called him Muchie Rajah (the Fish
Prince). In a little while Muchie Rajah had grown too long to live in
the small basin, so they put him in a larger one, and then when he grew
too long for that, into a big tub. In time, however, Muchie Rajah became
too large for even the big tub to hold him, so the Ranee had a tank made
for him in which he lived very happily; and twice a day she fed him with
boiled rice. Now, though the people fancied Muchie Rajah was only a
fish, this was not the case. He was, in truth, a young rajah who had
angered the gods, and been turned by them into a fish and thrown into
the river as a punishment.
One morning, when the Ranee brought him his daily meal of boiled rice,
Muchie Rajah called out to her and said: "Queen Mother, Queen Mother, I
am so lonely here all by myself! Cannot you get me a wife?" The Ranee
promised to try, and sent messengers to all the people she knew to ask
if they would allow one of their children to marry her son, the Fish
Prince. But they all answered: "We cannot give one of our dear little
daughters to be devoured by a great fish, even though he is the Muchie
Rajah and so high in your majesty's favor."
At news of this the Ranee did not know what to do. She was so foolishly
fond of Muchie Rajah, however, that she resolved to get him a wife at
any cost. Again she sent out messengers, but this time she gave them a
great bag containing a lac of gold mohurs,[G] and said to them: "Go into
every land until you find a wife for my Muchie Rajah, and to whoever
will give you a child to be the Muchie Ranee you shall give this bag of
gold mohurs." The messengers started on their search, but for some time
they were unsuccessful. Not even the beggars were to be tempted to sell
their children, fearing the great fish would devour them. At last one
day the messengers came to a village where there lived a fakir, who had
lost his first wife and married again. His first wife had had one little
daughter, and his second wife also had a daughter. As it happened, the
Fakir's second wife hated her little stepdaughter, always gave her the
hardest work to do and the least food to eat, and tried by every means
in her power to get her out of the way in order that the child might not
rival her own daughter. When she heard of the errand on which the
messengers had come, she sent for them when the Fakir was out, and said
to them: "Give me the bag of gold mohurs, and you shall take my little
daughter to marry the Muchie Rajah." ("For," she thought to herself,
"the great fish will certainly eat the girl, and she will thus trouble
us no more.") Then, turning to her stepdaughter, she said: "Go down to
the river and wash your saree, that you may be fit to go with these
people, who will take you to the Ranee's court." At these words the poor
girl went down to the river very sorrowful, for she saw no hope of
escape, as her father was from home. As she knelt by the riverside,
washing her saree and crying bitterly, some of her tears fell into the
hole of an old seven-headed cobra, who lived on the river bank. This
Cobra was a very wise animal, and seeing the maiden, he put his head out
of his hole and said to her, "Little girl, why do you cry?" "Oh, sir,"
she answered, "I am very unhappy, for my father is from home, and my
stepmother has sold me to the Ranee's people to be the wife of the
Muchie Rajah, that great fish, and I know he will eat me up." "Do not be
afraid, my daughter," said the Cobra; "but take with you these three
stones and tie them up in the corner of your saree"; and so saying he
gave her three little round pebbles. "The Muchie Rajah, whose wife you
are to be, is not really a fish, but a rajah who has been enchanted.
Your home will be a little room which the Ranee has had built in the
tank wall. When you are taken there, wait and be sure you don't go to
sleep or the Muchie Rajah will certainly come and eat you up. But as you
hear him coming rushing through the water, be prepared, and as soon as
you see him throw this first stone at him; he will then sink to the
bottom of the tank. The second time he comes, throw the second stone,
when the same thing will happen. The third time he comes, throw this
third stone, and he will immediately resume his human shape." So saying,
the old Cobra dived down again into his hole. The Fakir's daughter took
the stones and determined to do as the Cobra had told her, though she
hardly believed it would have the desired effect.
When she reached the palace the Ranee spoke kindly to her, and said to
the messengers: "You have done your errand well; this is a dear little
girl." Then she ordered that she should be let down the side of the tank
in a basket to a little room which had been prepared for her. When the
Fakir's daughter got there, she thought she had never seen such a pretty
place in her life, for the Ranee had caused the little room to be very
nicely decorated for the wife of her favorite; and she would have felt
very happy away from her cruel stepmother and all the hard work she had
been made to do, had it not been for the dark water that lay black and
unfathomable below the door, and the fear of the terrible Muchie Rajah.
After waiting some time she heard a rushing sound, and little waves came
dashing against the threshold; faster they came and faster, and the
noise got louder and louder, until she saw a great fish's head above the
water--Muchie Rajah was coming toward her open-mouthed. The Fakir's
daughter seized one of the stones that the Cobra had given her and threw
it at him, and down he sank to the bottom of the tank; a second time he
rose and came toward her, and she threw the second stone at him, and he
again sank down; a third time he came more fiercely than before, when,
seizing the third stone, she threw it with all her force. No sooner did
it touch him than the spell was broken, and there, instead of a fish,
stood a handsome young prince. The poor little Fakir's daughter was so
startled that she began to cry. But the Prince said to her: "Pretty
maiden, do not be frightened. You have rescued me from a horrible
thraldom, and I can never thank you enough; but if you will be the
Muchie Ranee, we will be married to-morrow." Then he sat down on the
doorstep, thinking over his strange fate and watching for the dawn.
[Illustration: "THE RANEE SAID, 'THIS IS A DEAR LITTLE GIRL'"]
Next morning early several inquisitive people came to see if the Muchie
Rajah had eaten up his poor little wife, as they feared he would; what
was their astonishment, on looking over the tank wall, to see, not the
Muchie Rajah, but a magnificent prince! The news soon spread to the
palace. Down came the Rajah, down came the Ranee, down came all their
attendants and dragged Muchie Rajah and the Fakir's daughter up the side
of the tank in a basket; and when they heard their story there were
great and unparalleled rejoicings. The Ranee said: "So I have indeed
found a son at last!" And the people were so delighted, so happy and so
proud of the new Prince and Princess that they covered all their path
with damask from the tank to the palace, and cried to their fellows:
"Come and see our new Prince and Princess. Were ever any so divinely
beautiful? Come see a right royal couple--a pair of mortals like the
gods!" And when they reached the palace the Prince was married to the
Fakir's daughter.
There they lived very happily for some time. The Muchie Ranee's
stepmother, hearing what had happened, came often to see her
stepdaughter, and pretended to be delighted at her good fortune; and
the Ranee was so good that she quite forgave all her stepmother's former
cruelty, and always received her very kindly. At last, one day, the
Muchie Ranee said to her husband: "It is a weary while since I saw my
father. If you will give me leave, I should much like to visit my native
village and see him again." "Very well," he replied, "you may go. But do
not stay away long, for there can be no happiness for me till you
return." So she went, and her father was delighted to see her; but her
stepmother, though she pretended to be very kind, was, in reality, only
glad to think she had got the Ranee into her power, and determined, if
possible, never to allow her to return to the palace again. One day
therefore she said to her own daughter: "It is hard that your stepsister
should have become Ranee of all the land instead of being eaten up by
the great fish, while we gained no more than a lac of gold mohurs. Do
now as I bid you, that you may become ranee in her stead." She then went
on to instruct her how she must invite the Ranee down to the river bank,
and there beg her to let her try on her jewels, and while putting them
on give her a push and drown her in the river.
The girl consented, and standing by the river bank, said to her
stepsister: "Sister, may I try on your jewels? How pretty they are!"
"Yes," said the Ranee, "and we shall be able to see in the river how
they look." So, undoing her necklaces, she clasped them around the
other's neck. But while she was doing so her stepsister gave her a push,
and she fell backward into the water. The girl watched to see that the
body did not rise, and then, running back, said to her mother: "Mother,
here are all the jewels, and she will trouble us no more." But it
happened that just when her stepsister pushed the Ranee into the river
her old friend the Seven-headed Cobra chanced to be swimming across it,
and seeing the little Ranee likely to be drowned, he carried her on his
back until they reached his hole, into which he took her safely. Now
this hole, in which the Cobra and his wife and all his little ones lived
had two entrances--the one under the water and leading to the river,
and the other above water, leading out into the open fields. To this
upper end of his hole the Cobra took the Muchie Ranee, where he and his
wife took care of her; and there she lived with them for some time.
Meanwhile, the wicked Fakir's wife, having dressed up her own daughter
in all the Ranee's jewels, took her to the palace, and said to the
Muchie Rajah: "See, I have brought your wife, my dear daughter, back
safe and well." The Rajah looked at her, and thought, "This does not
look like my wife." However, the room was dark and the girl was cleverly
disguised, and he thought he might be mistaken. Next day he said again:
"My wife must be sadly changed or this cannot be she, for she was always
bright and cheerful. She had pretty loving ways and merry words, while
this woman never opens her lips." Still, he did not like to seem to
mistrust his wife, and comforted himself by saying, "Perhaps she is
tired with the long journey." On the third day, however, he could bear
the uncertainty no longer, and tearing off her jewels saw, not the face
of his own little wife, but another woman. Then he was very angry and
turned her out of doors, saying: "Begone! since you are but the wretched
tool of others, I spare your life." But of the Fakir's wife he said to
his guards: "Fetch that woman here instantly, for unless she can tell me
where my wife is, I will have her hanged." It chanced, however, that the
Fakir's wife had heard of the Muchie Rajah having turned her daughter
out of doors; so, fearing his anger, she hid herself, and was not to be
found.
Meantime, the Muchie Ranee, not knowing how to get home, continued to
live in the great Seven-headed Cobra's hole, and he and his wife and all
his family were very kind to her, and loved her as if she had been one
of them; and there her little son was born, and she called him Muchie
Lal,[H] after the Muchie Rajah, his father. Muchie Lal was a lovely
child, merry and brave, and his playmates all day long were the young
cobras. When he was about three years old a bangle seller came by that
way, and the Muchie Ranee bought some bangles from him and put them on
her boy's wrists and ankles; but by the next day, in playing, he had
broken them all. Then, seeing the bangle seller, the Ranee called him
again and bought some more, and so on every day until the bangle seller
got quite rich from selling so many bangles for the Muchie Lal--for the
Cobra's hole was full of treasure, and he gave the Muchie Ranee as much
money to spend every day as she liked. There was nothing she wished for
he did not give her, only he would not let her try to get home to her
husband, which she wished more than all. When she asked him he would
say: "No, I will not let you go. If your husband comes here and fetches
you, it is well; but I will not allow you to wander in search of him
through the land alone."
And so she was obliged to stay where she was.
All this time the poor Muchie Rajah was hunting in every part of the
country for his wife, but he could learn no tidings of her. For grief
and sorrow at losing her he had gone well-nigh distracted, and did
nothing but wander from place to place, crying, "She is gone! she is
gone!" Then, when he had long inquired without avail of all the people
in her native village about her, he one day met a bangle seller, and
said to him, "Whence do you come?" The bangle seller answered: "I have
just been selling bangles to some people who live in a cobra's hole in
the river bank." "People! What people?" asked the Rajah. "Why," answered
the bangle seller, "a woman and a child. The child is the most beautiful
I ever saw. He is about three years old, and of course, running about,
is always breaking his bangles, and his mother buys him new ones every
day." "Do you know what the child's name is?" said the Rajah. "Yes,"
answered the bangle seller carelessly, "for the lady always calls him
her Muchie Lal." "Ah," thought the Muchie Rajah, "this must be my wife."
Then he said to him again: "Good bangle seller, I would see these
strange people of whom you speak; cannot you take me there?" "Not
to-night," replied the bangle seller; "daylight has gone, and we should
only frighten them; but I shall be going there again to-morrow, and then
you may come too. Meanwhile, come and rest at my house for the night,
for you look faint and weary." The Rajah consented. Next morning,
however, very early, he woke the bangle seller, saying: "Pray let us go
now and see the people you spoke about yesterday." "Stay," said the
bangle seller; "it is much too early. I never go till after breakfast."
So the Rajah had to wait till the bangle seller was ready to go. At last
they started off, and when they reached the Cobra's hole the first thing
the Rajah saw was a fine little boy playing with the young cobras.
As the bangle seller came along, jingling his bangles, a gentle voice
from inside the hole called out: "Come here, my Muchie Lal, and try on
your bangles." Then the Muchie Rajah, kneeling down at the mouth of the
hole, said, "O lady, show your beautiful face to me." At the sound of
his voice the Ranee ran out, crying, "Husband, husband! have you found
me again!" And she told him how her sister had tried to drown her, and
how the good Cobra had saved her life and taken care of her and her
child. Then he said, "And will you now come home with me?" And she told
him how the Cobra would never let her go, and said: "I will first tell
him of your coming; for he has been as a father to me." So she called
out: "Father Cobra, father Cobra, my husband has come to fetch me; will
you let me go?" "Yes," he said, "if your husband has come to fetch you,
you may go." And his wife said: "Farewell, dear lady, we are loth to
lose you, for we have loved you as a daughter." And all the little
cobras were very sorrowful to think that they must lose their
playfellow, the young Prince. Then the Cobra gave the Muchie Rajah and
the Muchie Ranee and Muchie Lal all the most costly gifts he could find
in his treasure-house, and so they went home, where they lived very
happy ever after.