into the Blue Sea. There they found an inn, and close to the inn, within
earshot, stood the copper bridge, on the other side of which the dragon
with seven heads roamed about. Andrew and Emerich were already at the
inn, and as they were very tired, they sat down and began to eat and
drink: when the new guest arrived the knives and forks dropped from the
two princes' hands; but when they learned that he, too, had come to
fight the dragons they made friends with him. They could not, however,
recognise him for all the world. Night set in, and Andrew and Emerich
had eaten and drunk too much, and became decidedly drunk, and so slept
very deeply. Ambrose ate little, drank nothing, and slept lightly. At
dawn the Tátos-horse pulled his master's hair, in order to wake him;
because it knew that the dragon had least strength at dawn, and that the
sun increased his strength. Ambrose at once jumped on horseback and
arrived at the copper bridge: the dragon heard the clattering of the
horse's hoofs, and at once flew to meet him. "Pooh!" cried the dragon
and snorted, "I smell a strange smell! Ambrose, is it you? I know you;
may you perish, you and your horse! Come on!" They fought for one hour
and three quarters. Ambrose, with two strokes, slashed six of the
dragon's heads off, but could not, for a long time succeed in cutting
off the seventh, for in it lay the dragon's magic power. But, at last,
the seventh head came off too.
The dragon had seven horses, these Ambrose fastened together, and took
them to the inn, where he tied them by the side of Emerich's horse.
Andrew and Emerich did not awake till nine o'clock, when Emerich asked
Andrew if he had killed the dragon, and Andrew asked Emerich if he had
done so; at last Ambrose told them that he had killed the dragon with
seven heads and taken away his seven horses, which he gave to Emerich,
who thanked him for them. The three then continued their journey
together as far as the silver bridge: here again they found an inn,
which stood close to the bridge. Emerich and Andrew ate and drank and
went to sleep as before; the Tátos horse, as soon as day began to break,
awoke his master, who cheerfully jumped up, dressed neatly, and left the
princes asleep. The Tátos scented the dragon quite ten miles off, and
growled like a dog, and the dragon in his rage began to throw his sparks
at them when four German miles off; they rushed upon each other and met
with a tremendous clash on the bridge; it was a very difficult task for
Ambrose to conquer this huge monster, but at last, through the skilful
manœuvring of his horse, he deprived the dragon of all his eight
heads: the eight horses belonging to the dragon he tied to a post near
the head of the eldest prince, Andrew. Andrew and Emerich did not awake
till noon, and were astonished at the sight of the splendid horses,
questioning each other as to who could have brought them there at such
an early hour, and then came to the conclusion that the prince must have
killed the dragon, and that these horses had belonged to the monster,
for no such horses ever neighed under a man before. Ambrose again
confessed that he had killed the dragon, and brought away his horses for
them. He also urged his two companions to hurry on to kill the third
dragon, or they would be too late. They all got on horseback, but in
their joy two of them had had to eat and drink, till they had more than
enough, but Ambrose, according to his custom, took but little; the two
elder brothers again went to sleep and slept like tops; but again the
little Tátos pulled Ambrose's hair, so soon as the morning star began to
glimmer.
Ambrose got up at once, and dressed even more quickly than before; for
the journey he took a small flask of wine, which he secured upon his
saddle. The horse warned its master to approach the dragon with great
caution, because it was a very excitable one, and if he got frightened
the least it would be very difficult to conquer the monster. Soon the
monster with nine heads arrived, thumped once on the golden bridge, so
that it trembled under the thump; Ambrose dashed at the dragon and
fought with it, but they could not conquer each other, although they
fought fiercely and long. At the last hug, especially, Ambrose grew so
weak that, if he had not taken a long draught from his flask he would
have been done for on the spot; the draught, however, renewed his
strength, and they dashed at each other again, but still neither could
conquer the other.
So the dragon asked Ambrose to change himself into a steel hoop and he,
the dragon, would become a flint hoop, and that they should both climb
to the top of yon rock, which was so high that the sun was only a good
span above it; and that they should roll down together, and if, while
running, the flint hoop left the rut, and, striking the steel hoop, drew
sparks therefrom, that Ambrose's head should fall off; but if on the
other hand, the steel hoop left the rut and struck the flint hoop so as
to draw sparks, then all the dragon's heads should fall off. But they
were both wise and stuck to their own ruts, rolling down in a straight
course till they reached the foot of the mountain without touching each
other, and lay down when they got to the bottom. As they could not
manage in this way, the dragon proposed: "I will become a red flame and
you will become a white one, and which ever flame reaches highest he
shall be victor." Ambrose agreed to this also; while they were
contending, they both noticed an old crow, which croaked at them from a
hollow tree; the dragon was an old acquaintance of the aged crow, and
requested it to bring in its beak as much water as would extinguish the
white flame, and promised that if he won, he would give his foe's flesh
to the crow, every bit of it.
Ambrose asked for a single drop of water, and promised the crow all the
flesh of the big-bodied dragon. The crow helped Ambrose: it soaked its
crop full of water and spat it over the red flame; thus Ambrose
conquered his last foe. He got on his horse, tied together the nine
horses of the dragon with nine heads and took them to his brothers, who
were still snoring loudly, although the sun had reached its zenith and
was hot enough to make a roast. At last the two lazy people got up, and
Ambrose divided the nine horses between them and took leave of them,
saying, "Go in peace, I myself am obliged to run wherever my eyes can
see." The two good-for-nothing brothers were secretly delighted, and
galloped off homewards. Ambrose turned himself into a small rabbit, and
as it ran over hill and dale it ran into a small hut where the three
wives of the three dragons were seated. The wife of the dragon with
seven heads took it into her lap and stroked it for a long time, and
thus addressed it: "I don't know whether Ambrose has killed my husband;
if he has, there will be a plague in the world, because I will turn into
a great pear tree, and the odour of its fruit will be smelt seven miles
off, and will be sweet to the taste but deadly poison. The tree which
thus grows from me will not dry up till Ambrose plunge his sword into
its root, then both it and myself will die." Then the wife of the dragon
with eight heads also took the little rabbit in her lap, and spoke thus:
"If Ambrose has killed my husband there will be a plague in the world, I
can tell you! because in my sorrow I will change into a spring; there
will be eight streams flowing out of this spring, each one of which will
run eight miles, where it again will sub-divide into eight more
branches. And whoever drinks of the water will die; but if Ambrose wash
his sword in my blood--which is the water of the spring--all the water
will at once dry up and I shall die." Then the wife of the dragon with
nine heads spoke to the rabbit, saying, "If Ambrose has killed my
husband, in my sorrow I will change into a huge bramble, and will
stretch all over the world, all along the highroads. And whoever trips
over me, will die; but if Ambrose cut my stalk in two anywhere the
bramble will dry up everywhere and I shall die."
Having listened to all this, the little rabbit scampered off out of the
hut; but an old woman with an iron nose, the mother of the three
dragons, chased him, and chased him over hill and dale: he ran, and
rushed about, till at length he overtook his brothers; jumping on his
little horse's back, he continued his journey at his leisure. As they
travelled on, his eldest brother longed for some good fruit; just then
they saw a fine pear tree, whereupon Ambrose jumped from his horse, and
plunged his sword into the roots of the tree, and drew blood, and a
moaning voice was heard. They travelled on for a few miles, when Emerich
all of a sudden became very thirsty: he discovered a spring, and jumped
off his horse in order to drink, but Ambrose was first to arrive at the
water; when, plunging his sword into it, it became blood, and fearful
screams were heard, and in one moment the whole of the water dried up.
From this point Ambrose galloped on in front till he left his brothers
two miles behind, because he knew that the bramble was stretching far
along the country road; he cut it in two, blood oozed out, and the
bramble at once dried up. Having thus cleared away all dangers from his
brothers' way, he blest them and separated from them.
The brothers went home, but the old woman with the iron nose persecuted
Ambrose more than ever, being in a great rage at his having killed her
sons and her daughters-in-law. Ambrose ran as hard as he could, for he
had left his horse with his brothers; but when he was quite exhausted
and had lost all confidence in himself, he ran into a smithy, and
promised the smith that he would serve him for two years for nothing if
he would hide him safely and well. The bargain was soon struck, and no
sooner had the smith hidden him than the old woman appeared on the spot
and inquired after a youth: she described his figure, the shape of his
eyes and mouth, height, colour of his moustache and hair, dress, and
general appearance. But the smith was not such a fool as to betray the
lad who had engaged to work at his anvil for him for two years for
nothing. So the old witch with the iron nose got to know nothing and
left the place growling. One day Ambrose was perspiring heavily by the
side of the anvil, so at eventide he went for a short walk in the road
in order to get a mouthful of fresh air. When he had nearly reached the
edge of the wood, which was only at a dog's trot from the smithy, he met
a very old woman with wizened face, whose carriage was drawn by two
small cats: the old woman began to ogle little Ambrose, making sheep's
eyes at him, like fast young women do. "May hell swallow you, you old
hag," said Ambrose to her angrily, "I see you have still such foolish
ideas in your head, although you have grown so old!" Having said this he
gave the carriage in which the witch sat, a kick, but poor Ambrose's
right foot stuck fast to the axle, and the two cats scampered off over
hill and dale with him until he suddenly discovered that he was trotting
in hell, and saw old Pilate staring at him. The old witch with the iron
nose--because it was she who had the carriage and pair of cats--fell
over head and ears in love with the young lad, and at once asked him to
marry her.
Ambrose shuddered when he heard this repulsive, unnatural request. "Very
well," said the woman with the iron nose, "as you don't intend to marry
me, into jail you go! twelve hundred-weight of iron on your feet!" Nine
black servants seized hold of poor Ambrose, at once, and took him nine
miles down into the bowels of the earth, and fastened a piece of iron
weighing twelve hundred-weight on his feet and secured it with a lock.
The poor lad wept and groaned, but no one had admission to where he was,
with the exception of the old witch and one of her maids. The maid of
the witch with the iron nose was not quite such an ugly fright as her
wizened old mistress, in fact she was such a pretty girl that one would
have to search far for a prettier lass. She commenced to visit Ambrose
in his prison rather often, sometimes even when the old witch did not
dream of it--to tell the truth, she fell head over ears in love with the
lad, nor did Ambrose dislike the pretty girl; on the contrary, he
promised to marry her if she were able to effect his escape from his
deep prison. The girl did not require any further coaxing, but commenced
plotting at once. At last she hit upon a scheme, and thus spoke to her
darling Ambrose: "You cannot get out of this place, unless you marry the
old woman with the iron nose. She having once become your wife will
reveal to you all her secrets; she will also tell you how she manages to
keep alive so long, and by what ways and means she may be got rid of."
Ambrose followed her instructions and was married to the old witch by a
clergyman--there are clergy even in hell, as many as you want. The first
night Ambrose, after having for a long time been kissing and making love
to the old iron nose, asked her: "What keeps you alive for so long, and
when do you think you will die? I don't ask these questions, my dearest
love," he added, flatteringly, "as if I wished for your death, but
because I should like to use those means myself which prolong your life
and keep away everything from me which would shorten life, and thus
preserve me, living long and happily with you." The old woman at first
was half inclined to believe his words, but while meditating over what
she had just heard, she suddenly kicked out in bed, and Ambrose flew
three miles into hell in his fright.
But the result of all the questioning and flattering in the end was that
the old woman confessed. She confided to him that she kept a wild boar
in the silken meadow, and if it were killed, they would find a hare
inside, inside the hare a pigeon, inside the pigeon a small box, inside
the little box one black and one shining beetle: the shining beetle held
her life, the black one her power; if those two beetles died then her
life would come to an end, too. As soon as the old woman went out for a
drive--which she had to do every day--Ambrose killed the wild boar, took
out the hare, from the hare the pigeon, from the pigeon the box, and
from the box the two beetles: he killed the black one at once, but kept
the shining one alive. The old witch's power left her immediately. When
she returned home her bed had to be made for her. Ambrose sat by her
bedside and looked very sad, and asked her with tears if she, who was
the other half of his soul, died what would become of him, who was a man
from earth and a good soul, who had no business there. "In case I die,
my dear husband," said the doomed woman, in a mild voice, "open with the
key which I keep in my bosom yon black closet in the wall. But you can't
remove the key from my bosom until I am dead. In the closet you will
find a small golden rod; with this rod you must strike the side of the
castle in which we are, and it will become a golden apple. You, then,
can get into the upper world by harnessing my two cats in my carriage,
and by whipping them with the golden rod." Hereupon Ambrose killed the
shining beetle too, and her pára (animal soul) left the old witch at
once.
He then struck the castle side with the golden rod, and it turned into
an apple; having harnessed the two cats and patted them with the golden
rod, he bade the maid sit by him, and in a wink they reached the upper
world. The maid had been kidnapped by the old witch with the iron nose
from the king of the country in the upper world, in whose land the mouth
of hell was situated. Ambrose placed the golden apple in the prettiest
part of the country and tapped its side with the rod and it became a
beautiful castle of gold, in which he married his sweetheart and lived
with her happily. Some time after he returned to his father's land,
where an immense number of strong soldiers had grown up since Ambrose
had killed the dragons. The old king distributed his realm among his
three sons, giving the most beautiful empires to Ambrose, who took his
father to him and kept him in great honour. His wife bore pretty
children who rode out every day on the Tátos.
THE WIDOWER AND HIS DAUGHTER.
I don't know in what country, in which county, in which district, in
which village, in which street, in which corner, there lived a poor
widower, and not far from him a rich widow. The widower had a beautiful
daughter. The widow had two who were not very pretty, and were rather
advanced in years. The widower married the widow and they combined the
two households and lived together. The husband was as fond of his wife's
daughters as of his own; but the woman liked her own daughters better
than her husband's child, and the two older girls loved their parents
truly but disliked their pretty sister very much. The poor man was very
sad at this, but could not help it.
Once upon a time there was a fair held in the town, which was not far
from the village, and the husband had to go to the fair. The two elder
girls and their loving mother asked for no end of pretty dresses they
wished their father to bring them from the fair: but the pretty girl of
the poor man did not dare to open her mouth to ask for anything. "Well,
my daughter, what shall I bring for you?" asked the poor man, in a sad
voice; "why don't you speak? You shall have something, too." "Don't
bring me anything," replied the pretty little girl, "but three walnuts,
and I shall be satisfied; a little girl does not want any pretty dresses
as yet." The poor man went to the fair and brought home many showy
dresses, red shoes, and bracelets. The two girls rummaged among the
heaps of pretty things; they threw about the coloured ribbons, golden
rings, and artificial flowers; they tried on their heads the various
Turkish shawls, and tried the effect of paints on their faces; they
skipped about and sang in their joy; they cheerfully embraced their
mother and highly praised their father's choice. At last, having got
tired of looking at the things, everyone put away her share into her
closet. The pretty little girl placed the three walnuts in her bosom and
felt very sad. The two elder girls could hardly wait for Sunday. They
dressed up most showily; they painted their faces, and as soon as the
bells began to ring ran to church and stuck themselves in the front pew.
Before leaving home, however, they gave the pretty little girl some very
dirty wheat and ordered her to clean it--about half a bushel full--by
the time they came back from church. The little girl began to sort the
wheat weeping, and her tears mingled with the wheat; but her complaining
was heard in Heaven and the Lord sent her a flock of white pigeons who
in a minute picked out the dirt and the tares from among the wheat, and
in another minute flew back to where they had come from. The little girl
gave thanks to Providence and cried no more. She fetched her three
walnuts in order to eat them, but as she opened the first one a
beautiful copper dress fell out of it; from the second a silver one; and
from the third a glittering gold one. She was highly delighted, and at
once locked the two walnuts in which the gold and silver dresses were,
safely in a cupboard. She put on the copper dress, hurried off to
church, and sat down in the last pew all among the old women: and lo!
the whole congregation stood up to admire her, so that the clergyman was
obliged to stop in his sermon: the two old maids looked back quite
surprised and found that the new comer's dress was ever so much prettier
than their own.
It happened that the king's son was also present in whose country the
village was and in which village the poor man and his new wife lived.
The beautiful girl dressed in the glittering copper dress was at once
noticed by the king's son who was at that time looking for a wife all
over the country. As soon as the pretty little girl noticed that the
sermon was coming to an end she left her seat and ran home in order to
get undressed before her step-mother and her two sisters got home. The
king sent a flunkey after her and gave him orders to note the door where
the pretty girl entered; but the swift girl ran much quicker than the
king's servant, and he lost her. She undressed in a great hurry, and by
the time that her two sisters got home in company with their young men
she had her copper dress put away in the walnut and locked it in a
cupboard and donned her ordinary every-day dress, which was very clean,
and was found in the act of fanning the fire under a pot full of
cabbage, and making herself busy about the kitchen in general. "Poor
orphan, you have not seen any thing," exclaimed the two eldest sisters,
who were in high spirits. "The king's son was at church, he sat just
opposite, for a while he kept his eyes fixed on us as if enchanted. You
did not see that, did you? At the beginning of the sermon, however, such
a beautiful girl, dressed in such a gorgeous dress, came in the like of
which no human eye has ever seen before." "I did see that pretty girl as
she turned the corner of the street." "From where did you see her?" at
once asked the envious sisters. "I got on the ladder and went up to the
chimney and saw her from there." "Indeed, then you spent your time
gaping about. You will catch it when father comes home and finds the
wheat unpicked." And they rushed to the place where the wheat was kept,
but lo! the wheat was as clean as washed gold, and the tares and the
dirt had been removed from the house.
In the afternoon the ladder was taken away from the front of the house,
so that the orphan girl should not be able to get on it any more. In
the afternoon the church bells were again heard ringing. The two elder
girls dressed up even more showily than before and went to church. The
prince also put in his appearance. The little orphan girl had twice as
much wheat meted out to her, and they threatened that if it was not
cleaned by the time they came home they would maltreat her. The little
girl set to work in great sorrow, but white pigeons came, twice as many
as in the morning. The wheat got cleaned like gold in one minute. The
little girl at once opened the second walnut, and the silver dress,
shining like moonbeams, unfolded itself. She went to church and sat in
the same seat where she sat in the morning. The prince took out his
eyeglass and eyed the pretty girl in the silver dress. He nearly
devoured her with his eyes. The girl did not stay long in her place, and
at a moment when nobody was looking she stole out of the church and ran
home. The king's flunkey again was unable to find out her abode. When
the two sisters came home the little girl was filling the cleaned wheat
into bags ready to be carried up into the loft. "Don't carry it up
yet--wait a moment," said the two sisters to her. "You have never seen
and will never behold in all your life what we saw to-day. The fairy
girl of this morning came this afternoon to church dressed in pure
silver; she gleamed like moonlight." "I've seen her," said the orphan
girl, with a meek smile; "I got on the hoarding and stood on the top
rail and saw her as she slipped out of church." "And how about the
wheat; let's have a look at it. We suppose you spent all your time
gaping again. Father will give it to you," said the two wicked girls.
But the wheat was all clean, and would have been so if it had been as
much more. They drove a lot of sharp nails into the top of the hoarding,
in order to prevent the orphan girl getting on to it.