Kindness. The king was very fond of them all, but he loved the youngest
one, Kindness, the most, as she knew best how to please him. Many
clever young gentlemen came to visit Kindness, but no one ever came near
the other two, and so they were very envious of her, and decided they
would get rid of her somehow or other. One morning they asked their
father's permission to go out into the fields, and from thence they went
into the forest. Kindness was delighted at having liberty to roam about
in such pretty places; the other two were pleased that they had at last
got the bird into their hands. As the dew dried up the two eldest
sisters strolled about arm in arm, whilst the youngest chased
butterflies and plucked the wild strawberries, with the intention of
taking some home to her father; she spent her time in great glee,
singing and listening to the songs of the birds, when suddenly she
discovered that she had strolled into an immense wood. As she was
considering what to do, her two sisters appeared by her side, and said
spitefully, "Well, you good-for-nothing! you have never done anything
but try to make our father love you most and to spoil our chances in
every way, prepare yourself for your end, for you have eaten your last
piece of bread." Kindness lifted up her hands, and besought them not to
harm her, but they cut off her hands, and only spared her life under the
condition that she would never go near her home again; they then took
her beautiful precious mantle from her, and dressed her in old rags;
they then led her to the highest part of the forest, and showed her an
unknown land, bidding her go there and earn her living by begging. The
blood streamed from Kindness's arms, and her heart ached in an
indescribable way, but she never uttered the slightest reproach against
her sisters, but started off in the direction pointed out to her.
Suddenly she came to a beautiful open plain, where there was a pretty
little orchard full of trees, and their fruit was always ripening all
the year round. She gave thanks to God that he had guided her there,
then, entering the garden, she crouched down in a by-place. As she had
no hands to pluck the fruit with she lived upon what grew upon low
boughs; thus she spent the whole summer unnoticed by any one.
But towards autumn, when every other fruit was gone save grapes, she
lived on these, and then the gardener soon discovered that the bunches
had been tampered with and that there must be some one about: he watched
and caught her. Now it so happened that the garden belonged to a prince,
who spent a great deal of his time there, as he was very fond of the
place. The gardener did not like to tell him of what had happened, as he
pitied the poor handless girl and was afraid his master would punish her
severely. He decided therefore to let her go. Accidentally, however, the
prince came past and asked who she was. "Your highness," replied the
gardener, "I know no more of her than you do. I caught her in the
garden, and to prevent her doing any more damage I was going to turn her
out." "Don't lead her away," said the prince; "and who are you,
unfortunate girl?" "You have called me right, my lord," said Kindness,
"for I am unfortunate, but I am not bad; I am a beggar, but I am of
royal blood. I was taken from my father because he loved me most;
crippled because I was a good child. That is my story." To this the
prince replied, "However dirtily and ragged you are dressed, still it is
clear to me that you are not of low birth: your pretty face and polished
speech prove it. Follow me; and whatever you have lost you will find in
my house." "Your highness, in this nasty, dirty dress--how can I come
into your presence? Send clothes to me which I can put on, and then I
will do whatever you order." "Very well," said the prince; "stay here,
and I will send to you." He went and sent her a lady-in-waiting with
perfumed water to wash with, a gorgeous dress, and a carriage. Kindness
washed and dressed herself, got into the carriage, and went to the
prince. Quite changed in her appearance, not at all like as she was
before, however much she suffered she was as pretty as a Lucretia; and
the prince fell so much in love with her that he decided on the spot
that he would marry her; and so they got married, with great splendour,
and spent their time together in great happiness.
When the two elder sisters came home from the forest their father
inquired where Kindness was. "Has she not come home?" said they; "we
thought that she would have been home before us. As she was running
after butterflies she got separated from us. We looked for her
everywhere and called for her; as we got no answer we set off home
before the darkness set in."
The king gave orders that Kindness was to be looked for everywhere; they
searched for days but could not find her; then the king got so angry in
his sorrow that he drove the two elder girls away because they had not
taken proper care of their sister. They set out into the world in quite
another direction, but by accident arrived in the country where Kindness
was queen; here they lived a retired life in a small town unknown to
all. Kindness at this time was enceinte; and as war broke out with a
neighbouring nation her royal husband was obliged to go to the field of
battle. The war lasted a long time, and in the meantime Kindness gave
birth to twins, two handsome sons; on the forehead of one was the sign
of the blessed sun, on the other the sign of the blessed moon; in great
joy the queen's guardian sent a letter containing the good news to the
king by a messenger to the camp. The messenger had to pass through the
small town where the envious sisters dwelt; it was quite dark when he
arrived, and as he did not see a light anywhere but in their window he
went and asked for a night's lodging; while he stayed there he told them
all about the object of his journey; you may imagine how well he was
received, and with what pleasure they offered him lodging, these envious
brutes! When the messenger fell asleep they immediately took possession
of the letter, tore it open, read it, and burnt it, and put in its place
another to the king, saying that the queen had given birth to two
monsters which looked more like puppies than babes; in the morning they
gave meat and drink to the messenger, and pressed him to call and see
them on his way back, as they would be delighted to see him. He accepted
their kind invitation, and promised that he would come to them, and to
no one else, on his return. The messenger arrived at the camp and
delivered his letter to the king, who was very downcast as he read it;
but still he wrote back and said that his wife was not to be blamed; "if
it has happened thus how can I help it? don't show her the slightest
discourtesy," wrote he. As the messenger went back he slept again in the
house of the two old serpent-sisters; they stole the king's letter and
wrote in its place: "I want neither children nor mother; see that by the
time I come home those monsters be out of my way, so that not even so
much as their name remain." When this letter was read every one was very
sorry for the poor queen, and couldn't make out why the king was so
angry, but there was nothing for it but for the king's orders to be
carried out, and so the two pretty babes were put in a sheet and hung
round Kindness's neck, and she was sent away. For days and days poor
Kindness walked about suffering hunger and thirst, till at last she came
to a pretty wood; passing through this she travelled through a valley
covered with trees; passing through this at last she saw the great
alpine fir-trees at the end of the vale; there she found a clear spring;
in her parching thirst she stooped to drink, but in her hurry she lost
her balance and fell into the water; as she tried to drag herself out
with her two stumps, to her intense astonishment she found that by
immersion her two hands had grown again as they were before; she wept
for joy. Although she was hiding in an unknown place with no husband, no
father, no friend, no help whatever, with two starving children in this
great wilderness, still she wasn't sorrowful, because she was so
delighted to have her hands again. She stood there, and could not make
up her mind in which direction to go; as she stood looking all round she
suddenly caught sight of an old man coming towards her. "Who are you?"
said the old man. "Who am I?" she replied, sighing deeply; "I'm an
unfortunate queen." She then told him all she had suffered, and how she
had recovered her hands that very minute by washing in the spring. "My
poor good daughter," said the old man, bitterly, "then we are both
afflicted ones; it's quite enough that you are alive, and that I have
found you. Listen to me: your husband was warring against me, he drove
me from my country, and hiding from him I came this way; not very far
from here with one of my faithful servants I have built a hut and we
will live together there." The old man, in order to prove the miraculous
curing power of the spring, dipped his maimed finger into it, which was
shot off in the last war; as he took it out, lo! it was all right once
more.
When the war was over, Kindness's husband returned home and inquired
after his wife. They told him all that had happened, and he was deeply
grieved, and went in search of her with a great number of his people,
and they found her at last with her two pretty babes, living with her
old father. On inquiry it was also found out where the messenger with
the letters had slept and how the letters were changed. Pride and
Gentleness were summoned and sentenced to death; but Kindness forgave
them all their misdeeds, and was so kind to them that she obtained their
pardon, and also persuaded her father to forgive them.
There is no more of this speech to which you need listen, as I have told
it to the very end and I have not missed a word out of it. Those of whom
I have spoken may they be your guests, every one of them, to-morrow!
KNIGHT ROSE.
A king had three sons. When the enemy broke into the land and occupied
it, the king himself fell in the war. The young princes were good
huntsmen and fled from the danger, all three, taking three horses with
them. They went on together for a long time, till they did not even know
where they were; on they journeyed, till at last they came to the top of
the very highest snow-covered mountain, where the road branched off:
here they decided to separate and try their luck alone. They agreed that
on the summit of the mountain, at the top of a tall tree, they would fix
a long pole, and on it a white handkerchief. They were to keep well in
sight of this white flag, and whenever the handkerchief was seen full of
blood the one who saw it was to start in search of his brothers, as one
of them was in danger. The name of the youngest was Rose; he started off
to the left, the other two went to the right. When Rose came to the
seventh snow-capped mount and had got far into it he saw a beautiful
castle and went in. As he was tired with travelling and wanted a night's
rest, he settled down. When even came the gates of the castle opened
with great noise, and seven immense giants rushed into the courtyard and
from thence into the tower. Every one of them was as big as a tall
tower. Rose, in his fright, crept under the bed; but the moment the
giants entered one of them said, "Phuh! What an Adam-like smell there is
here!" Looking about they caught Rose, cut him up into small pieces like
the stalk of a cabbage and threw him out of the window.
In the morning the giants went out again on their business. From a bush
there came forth a snake, which had the head of a pretty girl; she
gathered up every morsel of Rose's body, arranged them in order, and
said, "This belongs here, that belongs there." She then anointed him
with grass that had healing power, and brought water of life and death
from a spring that was not far off and sprinkled it over him. Rose
suddenly jumped up on his feet and was seven times more beautiful and
strong than before. At this moment the girl cast off the snake-skin as
far as the arm-pits. As Rose was now so strong he became braver, and in
the evening did not creep under the bed, but waited for the giants
coming home, at the gate. They arrived and sent their servants in
advance to cut up that wretched heir of Adam; but they could not manage
him, it took the giants themselves to cut him up. Next morning the
serpent with the girl's head came again and brought Rose to life as
before, and she herself cast off her skin as far as her waist. Rose was
now twice as strong as a single giant. The same evening the seven giants
killed him again, he himself having killed the servants and wounded
several of the giants. Next morning the giants were obliged to go
without their servants. Then the serpent came and restored Rose once
more, who was now stronger than all the seven giants put together, and
was so beautiful that though you could look at the sun you could not
look at him. The girl now cast off the serpent's skin altogether and
became a most beautiful creature. They told each other the story of
their lives. The girl said that she was of royal blood, and that the
giants had killed her father and seized his land, that the castle
belonged to her father, and that the giants went out every day to
plunder the people. She herself had become a snake by the aid of a good
old quack nurse, and had made a vow that she would remain a serpent
until she had been avenged on the giants, and she knew now that although
she had cast off the snake's skin she had nothing to fear because Rose
was a match for the seven giants. "Now, Rose," said she, "destroy them
every one, and I will not be ungrateful." To which he replied, "Dearest
one, you have restored me to life these three times--how could I help
being grateful to you? My life and my all are yours!" They took an oath
to be true to each other till death, and spent the day merrily till
evening set in, when the giants came, and Rose addressed them thus: "Is
it not true, you pack of scoundrels, that you have killed me three
times? Now, I tell you that not one of you shall put his foot within
these gates! Don't you believe me? Let's fight!" They charged upon him
with great fury, but victory was, this time, on his side; he killed
them one after the other and took the keys of the castle out of their
pockets. He then searched over every nook in the building, and came to
the conclusion that they were safe, as they had now possession of the
castle.
The night passed quietly; next morning Rose looked from the courtyard to
the top of the snow-covered mountain, in the direction of the white
flag, and saw that it was quite bloody. He was exceedingly sorry, and
said to his love, "I must go in search of my two elder brothers, as some
mischief has befallen them; wait till I return, because if I find them I
shall certainly be back."
He then got ready, took his sword, bow and arrow, some healing-grass,
and water of life and death with him, and went to the very place where
they had separated. On the way he shot a hare, and when he came to the
place of separation he went on the same road by which his elder brothers
had gone; he found there a small hut and a tree beside it; he stopped in
front of the tree, and saw that his brothers' two dogs were chained to
it; he loosed them, lighted a fire, and began to roast the hare. As he
roasted it he heard a voice as if some one were shouting from the tree
in a shivering voice; "Oh, how cold I am!" it said. "If you're cold,"
replied Rose, "get down and warm yourself." "Yes," said the voice, "but
I'm afraid of the dogs." "Don't be afraid as they won't hurt an honest
person." "I believe you," said the voice in the tree, "but still I want
you to throw this hair between them; let them smell it first, then they
will know me by it." Rose took the hair and threw it into the fire. Down
came an old witch from the tree and warmed herself. Then she spitted a
toad and began to roast it. As she did so she said to Rose, "This is
mine, that is yours," and threw it at him. As Rose couldn't stand this
he jumped up, drew his sword, and smote the witch; but lo! the sword
turned into a log of wood, and the witch flew at him to kill him,
crying, "It's all up with you also. I've killed your brothers in
revenge because you killed my seven giant sons."[1] But Rose set the
dogs at her, and they dragged her about till they drew blood. The blood
was spilt on the log of wood and it became a sword again. Rose caught
hold of it and chopped the old witch's left arm off. Now the witch
showed him the place where she had buried his brothers. Rose smote her
once more with his sword and the old witch went to Pluto's. Rose dug out
the bodies, put the bits together, anointed them with the healing-grass,
and sprinkled them with the water of life and death, and they came to
life again.
When they opened their eyes and saw Rose, they both exclaimed, "Oh! how
long I have been asleep." "Very long indeed," said Rose, "and if I
hadn't come you'd have been asleep still." They told him that soon after
they had separated they received the news that the enemy had withdrawn
from their country, and they decided to return, and that the elder
should undertake the government of the land, and the other go in search
of Rose. On their way they happened to go into the hut, and the old
witch treated them as she was going to treat Rose.
Rose also told them his tale, and spoke to them thus: "You, my eldest
brother, go home, and sit on our father's throne. You my other brother
come with me, and let us two govern the vast country over which the
giants had tyrannised until now:" and thus they separated and each went
on his own business.
Rose found his pretty love again, who was nearly dead with fretting for
him, but who quite recovered on his happy return. They took into their
hands the government of the vast country which they had delivered from
the sway of the giants. Rose and his love got married with the most
splendid wedding-feast, and the bride had to dance a great deal; and if
they've not died since they're alive still to this very day.
May they curl themselves into an eggshell and be your guests to-morrow.
[1] According to Kozma this is the only instance in the Székely
folk-lore which accounts for the origin of giants.
PRINCE MIRKÓ.
There was once, I don't know where, a king who had three sons. This king
had great delight in his three sons, and decided to give them a sound
education, and after that to give them a place in the government, so
that he might leave them as fit and willing heirs to his throne; so he
sent these sons to college to study, and they did well for a while; but
all of a sudden they left college, came home, and would not return. The
king was very much annoyed at their conduct, and prohibited them from
ever entering his presence. He himself retired, and lived in an eastern
room of the royal residence, where he spent his time sitting in a window
that looked eastward, as if he expected some one to come in that
direction. One of his eyes was continually weeping, while the other was
continually laughing. One day, when the princes were grown up, they held
a consultation, and decided to ascertain from their royal father the
reason why he always sat in the east room, and why one eye was
continually weeping while the other never ceased laughing. The eldest
son tried his fortune first, and thus questioned the king: "Most
gracious majesty, my father. I have come to ask you, my royal sire, the
reason why one of your eyes is always weeping while the other never
ceases laughing, and why you always sit in this east room." The king
measured his son from top to toe, and never spoke a word, but seized his
long straight sword which leant against the window and threw it at him:
it struck the door, and entered into it up to the hilt. The prince
jumped through the door and escaped the blow that was meant for him. As
he went he met his two brothers, who inquired how he had fared. "You'd
better try yourself and you will soon know," replied he. So the second
prince tried, but with no better result than his brother. At last the
third brother, whose name was Mirkó, went in, and, like his brother,
informed the king of the reason of his coming. The king uttered not a
word, but seized the sword with even greater fury, and threw it with
such vehemence that it entered up to the hilt in the wall of the room:
yet Mirkó did not run away, but only dodged the sword, and then pulled
it out of the wall and took it back to his royal father, placing it on
the table in front of him. Seeing this the king began to speak and said
to Prince Mirkó, "My son, I can see that you know more about honour than
your two brothers. So I will answer your question. One of my eyes weeps
continually because I fret about you that you are such good-for-nothings
and not fit to rule; the other laughs continually because in my younger
days I had a good comrade, Knight Mezey, with whom I fought in many
battles, and he promised me that if he succeeded in vanquishing his
enemy he would come and live with me, and we should spend our old age
together. I sit at the east window because I expect him to come in that
direction; but Knight Mezey, who lives in the Silk Meadow, has so many
enemies rising against him every day as there are blades of grass, and
he has to cut them down all by himself every day; and until the enemies
be extirpated he cannot come and stay with me." With this, Prince Mirkó
left his father's room, went back to his brothers, and told them what
he had heard from the king. So they held council again, and decided to
ask permission from their father to go and try their fortunes. First the
eldest prince went and told the king that he was anxious to go and try
his fortune, to which the king consented: so the eldest prince went into
the royal stables and chose a fine charger, had it saddled, his bag
filled, and started on his journey the next morning. He was away for a
whole year, and then suddenly turned up one morning, carrying on his
shoulder a piece of bridge-flooring made of copper; throwing it down in
front of the royal residence, he walked into the king's presence, told
him where he had been, and what he had brought back with him. The king
listened to the end of his tale and said, "Well, my son, when I was as
young as you are I went that way, and it only took me two hours from the
place where you brought this copper from. You are a very weak knight:
you won't do; you can go." With this the eldest prince left his father's
room. The second prince then came in and asked the king to permit him to
try his fortune, and the king gave him permission. So he went to the
royal stables, had a fine charger saddled, his bag filled, and set off.
At the end of a year he returned home, bringing with him a piece of
bridge-flooring made of silver; this he threw down in front of the royal
residence, and went in unto the king, told him all about his journey and
about his spoil. "Alas!" said the king, "when I was as young as you I
went that way, and it did not take me more than three hours; you are a
very weak knight, my son: you will not do."