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ROUMANIAN FAIRY TALES
_COLLECTED_
BY
MITE KREMNITZ.
_ADAPTED AND ARRANGED_
BY
J. M. PERCIVAL
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1885
COPYRIGHT, 1885,
BY
HENRY HOLT & CO.
* * * * *
PREFACE.
This collection contains translations of Roumanian tales which,
however, comprise but a small portion of the inexhaustible treasure
that exists in the nation. The originals are scattered throughout
Roumanian literature. The finest collection is Herr P. Ispirescu's,
from which the stories numbered in the contents 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12,
13, and 17 in the present volume have been selected. No. 11 is taken
from Herr T. M. Arsenie's small collection; the others have been drawn
from the columns of the periodical _Convorbiri Literare_. Of these
Nos. 5 and 14 are by the pen of Herr J. Creanga, No. 9 is the work of
Herr Miron Pompilin, while Nos. 1, 3, 7, 16 and 18 are by Herr
Slavice, who wrote No. 15 specially for this volume, in the Roumanian
language, just as it was related to him by the peasants.
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
1. STAN BOLOVAN
2. THE WONDERFUL BIRD
3. THE TWINS WITH THE GOLDEN STAR
4. YOUTH WITHOUT AGE AND LIFE WITHOUT DEATH
5. THE LITTLE PURSE WITH TWO HALF-PENNIES
6. MOGARZEA AND HIS SON
7. CUNNING ILEANE
8. THE PRINCESS AND THE FISHERMAN
9. LITTLE WILD-ROSE
10. THE VOICE OF DEATH
11. THE OLD WOMAN AND THE OLD MAN
12. THE PEA EMPEROR
13. THE MORNING STAR AND THE EVENING STAR
14. THE TWO STEP-SISTERS
15. THE POOR BOY
16. MOTHER'S DARLING JACK
17. TELLERCHEN
18. THE FAIRY AURORA
* * * * *
Stan Bolovan.
Once upon a time, something happened. If it hadn't happened, it
wouldn't be told.
At the edge of the village, where the peasants' oxen break through the
hedges and the neighbors' hogs wallow in the ground under the fences,
there once stood a house. In this house lived a man, and the man had a
wife; but the wife grieved all day long.
"What troubles you, dear wife, that you sit there drooping like a
frost-bitten bud in the sunlight?" her husband asked one day. "You
have all you need. So be cheerful, like other folks."
"Let me alone, and ask no more questions!" replied the wife, and
became still more melancholy than before.
Her husband questioned her the second time, and received the same
reply. But, when he asked again, she answered more fully.
"Dear me," she said, "why do you trouble your head about it? If you
know, you'll be just sorrowful as I am. It's better for me not to tell
you."
But, to this, people will never agree. If you tell a person he must
sit still, he is more anxious to move than ever. Stan was now
determined to know what was in his wife's mind.
"If you are determined to hear, I'll tell you," said the wife.
"There's no luck in the house, husband,--there's no luck in the
house!"
"Isn't the cow a good one? Are not the fruit-trees and bee-hives full?
Are not the fields fertile?" asked Stan. "You talk nonsense, if you
complain of any thing."
"But, husband, we have no children."
Stan understood; and, when a man realizes such a thing, it isn't well.
From this time, a sorrowful man and a sorrowful woman lived in the
house on the edge of the village. And they were sorrowful because the
Lord had given them no children. When the wife saw her husband sad,
she grew still more melancholy; and the more melancholy she was, the
greater his grief became.
This continued for a long time.
They had masses repeated and prayers read in all the churches. They
questioned all the witches, but God's gift did not come.
One day, two travelers arrived at Stan's house, and were joyfully
received and entertained with the best food he had. They were angels
in disguise; and, perceiving that Stan and his wife were good people,
one of them, while throwing his knapsack over his shoulder to continue
his journey, asked his host what he most desired, and said that any
three of his wishes should be fulfilled.
"Give me children," replied Stan.
"What else shall I give you?"
"Children, sir, give me children!"
"Take care," said the angel, "or there will be too many of them. Have
you enough to support them?"
"Never mind that, sir,--only give them to me!"
The travelers departed; but Stan accompanied them as far as the
high-road, that they might not lose their way among the fields and
woods.
When Stan reached home again, he found the house, yard, and garden
filled with children, in all not less than a hundred. Not one was
larger than the other; but each was more quarrelsome, bolder, more
mischievous and noisier than the rest. And, in some way, God made Stan
feel and know that they all belonged to him and were his.
"Good gracious! What a lot of them!" he cried, standing in the midst
of the throng.
"But not too many, husband," replied his wife, bringing a little flock
with her.
Then followed days which can only be experienced by a man who has a
hundred children. The house and village echoed with shouts of "father"
and "mother," and the world was full of happiness.
But taking care of children isn't so simple a matter. Many pleasures
come with many troubles, and many troubles with many joys. When, after
a few days, the children began to shout, "Father, I'm hungry!" Stan
began to scratch his head. There did not seem to him to be too many
children, for God's gift is good, however large it may be; but his
barns were too small, the cow was growing thin, and the fields did
not produce enough.
"I'll tell you what, wife," said Stan one day, "it seems to me that
there isn't much harmony in our affairs. As God was good enough to
give us so many children, He ought to have filled the measure of His
goodness, and sent us food for them, too."
"Search for it, husband," the wife answered. "Who knows where it may
be concealed? The Lord never does a thing by halves."
Stan went out into the wide world to find God's gift. He was firmly
resolved to return home laden with food.
Aha! The road of the hungry is always a long one. A man doesn't earn
food for a hundred greedy children in a trice. Stan wandered on, on,
on, till he had fairly run himself off his feet. When he had thus
arrived nearly at the end of the world, where what is mixes with what
is not, he saw in the distance, in the middle of a field which lay
spread out as flat as a cake, a sheep-fold. By it stood seven
shepherds, and in the shadow within lay a flock of sheep.
"Lord, help me," said Stan, and went up to the fold to see whether, by
patience and discretion, he might not find some employment there. But
he soon discovered that there was not much more hope here than in the
other places whither he had journeyed. This was the state of affairs:
every night, at precisely twelve o'clock, a furious dragon came and
took from the herd a ram, a sheep, and a lamb, three animals in all.
He also carried milk enough for seventy-seven lambkins to the old
she-dragon, that she might bathe in it and grow young. The shepherds
were very angry about it, and complained bitterly. So Stan saw that he
was not likely to return home from here richly laden with food for his
children.
But there is no spur more powerful than for a man to see his children
starving. An idea entered Stan's head, and he said boldly, "What would
you give me, if I released you from the greedy dragon?"
"One of each three rams shall be yours, one-third of the sheep, and
one-third of the lambs," replied the shepherds.
"Agreed," said Stan; yet he felt rather anxious, lest he might find it
too hard to drive the flock home alone.
But there was no hurry about that. It was some time before midnight.
And besides, to tell the truth, Stan did not exactly know how he was
to get rid of the dragon. "The Lord will send me some clever plan," he
said to himself, and then counted the flock again to see how many
animals he would have.
Just at midnight, when day and night, weary of strife, for a moment
stood still, Stan felt that he was about to see something he had never
beheld before. It was something that can not be described. It is a
horrible thing to have a dragon come. It seemed as if the monster was
hurling huge rocks at the trees, and thus forcing a way through
primeval forests. Even Stan felt that he should be wise to take the
quickest way off, and enter into no quarrel with a dragon. Ah! but his
children at home were starving.
"I'll kill you or you shall kill me!" Stan said to himself, and
remained where he was, close by the sheep-fold.
"Stop!" he cried, when he saw the dragon near the fold; and he shouted
as though he was a person of importance.
"H'm," said the dragon: "where did you come from, that you screech at
me so?"
"I am Stan Bolovan, who at night devours rocks and by day grazes on
the trees of the primeval forests; and if you touch the flock, I'll
cut a cross on your back, and bathe you in holy water."
When the dragon heard these words, he stopped in the midst of his
career; for he saw that he had found his match.
"But you must first fight with me," replied the dragon, hesitatingly.
"_I_ fight with you?" cried Stan. "Beware of the words that have
escaped your lips. My breath is stronger than your whole body." Then,
taking from his knapsack a piece of white cheese, he showed it to the
dragon. "Do you see this stone?" he said. "Pick one up from the bank
of yonder stream, and we'll try our strength."
The dragon took a stone from the shore of the brook.
"Can you squeeze buttermilk out of the stone?" asked Stan.
The dragon crushed the stone in his hand, so that he crumbled it into
powder. But he squeezed no buttermilk from it.
"It can't be done," he said rather angrily.
"I'll show you whether it can be done," replied Stan, and then
squeezed the soft cheese in his hand, till the buttermilk trickled
down between his fingers.
When the dragon saw this, he began to look about him to find the
shortest road to run away; but Stan placed himself before the forest.
"Let us have a little reckoning about what you have taken from the
fold," he said. "Nothing is given away here."
The poor dragon would have taken flight, if he hadn't been afraid that
Stan might blow behind him, and bury him under the trees in the
forest. So he stood still, like a person who doesn't know what else to
do.
"Listen!" he said, after a while. "I see that you are a useful man. My
mother has long been looking for a servant like you, but has not been
able to find one. Enter our service. The year has three days, and each
day's wages is seven sacks of ducats!"
Three times seven sacks of ducats! A fine business! That was just what
Stan needed. "And," he thought, "if I've outwitted the dragon, I can
probably get the better of his mother!" So he didn't waste many words
about the matter, but set off with the monster. A long, rough road;
but still it was too short, since it led to a bad end. It seemed to
Stan as if he had arrived almost before he started.
The old she-dragon, old as Time itself, was waiting for them. She had
made a fire under the huge caldron, in which she meant to boil the
milk and mix it with the blood of a lamb and the marrow from its
bones, that the liquid might have healing power. Stan saw her eyes
glistening in the darkness when they were still three gun-shots off.
But, when they reached the spot and the she-dragon perceived that her
son had brought her nothing, she was very angry. This she-dragon was
by no means lovable. She had a wrinkled face, open jaws, tangled hair,
sunken eyes, parched lips, and a breath reeking with the smell of
onions.
"Stay here," said the dragon. "I'll go and make arrangements with my
mother."
Stan would willingly have stood still further off, but he had no
choice now that he had once entered upon this evil business. So he let
the dragon go on.
"Listen, mother!" said the dragon, when he had entered the house.
"I've brought you a man to get rid of. He's a terrible fellow, who
eats pieces of rock and squeezes buttermilk out of stones." Then he
told her what had happened.
"Just leave him to me," she said, after hearing the whole story. "No
man ever slipped through _my_ fingers."
So the matter remained as it had first been settled. Stan Bolovan
became the servant of this monster and his mother. A terrible fix! I
really don't know what will come of it.
The next day, the she-dragon gave him his task. They were to give a
signal to the dragon world with a club sheathed in seven thicknesses
of iron. The dragon raised the club and hurled it three miles, then he
set off with Stan, that he might also throw it three miles, or, if
possible, further still. When Stan reached the club, he began to look
at it rather anxiously. He saw that he and all his children together
could not even lift it from the ground.
"Why are you standing there?" asked the dragon.
"Why, you see, it's such a handsome club. I'm sorry," replied Stan.
"Sorry? Why?" inquired the dragon.
"Because," answered Stan, "I'm afraid you'll never see it again in
your whole life, if I throw it; for I know my own strength."
"Don't fear. Just throw it," replied the dragon.
"If you really mean it, we'll first go and get provisions enough to
last three days; for we shall have to travel at least three days, if
not longer, to get it."
These words frightened the dragon, but he did not yet believe that it
would be so bad as Stan said. So they went home for the provisions,
though he wasn't at all pleased with the idea of having Stan serve his
year in merely going after the club. When they got back again to it,
Stan sat down on the bag of provisions and became absorbed in staring
at the moon.
"What are you doing?" asked the dragon.
"Only waiting for the moon to sail by."
"Why?"
"Don't you see that the moon is directly in my way?" said Stan. "Or do
you want me to fling the club into the moon?"
The dragon now began to be seriously anxious. It was a club that had
descended to him from his ancestors, and he wouldn't have liked to
lose it in the moon.
"I'll tell you what," he said. "Don't throw the club. I'll do it
myself."
"Certainly not. Heaven forbid!" replied Stan. "Only wait till the moon
passes by."
Then a long conversation followed; for Stan would not consent to have
the dragon throw the club again, except on the promise of seven sacks
of ducats.
"Oh, dear! mother, he's a tremendously strong man," said the dragon.
"I could scarcely prevent him from throwing the club into the moon."
The she-dragon began to be anxious, too. Just think of it! Would it be
a joke to have a person able to throw any thing into the moon? She was
a she-dragon of true dragon blood, however, and the next day had
thought of a still harder task.
"Bring some water," she said early in the morning, and gave each
twelve buffalo skins, ordering them to fill them by evening, and fetch
them all home at once.
They went to the well; and, before one could wink, the dragon had
filled the twelve skins, and was in the act of carrying them back.
Stan was tired, he had scarcely been able to drag the empty skins
along. A chill ran through his veins, when he thought of the full
ones. What do you suppose he did? He pulled a worn-out knife blade
from his belt, and began to scratch the earth around the well with it.
"What are you doing?" asked the dragon.
"I'm not a blockhead, that I should go to the labor of filling the
skins with water," replied Stan.
"But how will you carry the water to the house, then?"
"How? Just as you see," said Stan. "I'm going to take the well, you
goose!"
The dragon stood with his mouth wide-open in amazement. He wouldn't
have had this done on any account, for the well was one that had
belonged to his ancestors.
"I'll tell you," he said anxiously, "let me carry your skins home,
too."
"Certainly not. Heaven forbid!" replied Stan, digging on around the
well.
Now, another long discussion followed; and this time, too, the dragon
could only persuade Stan by promising him seven sacks of ducats.
On the third day, that is the last one, the she-dragon sent them into
the forest for wood.
Before one could count three, the dragon tore up more trees than Stan
had ever seen before in his whole life, and piled them up together.
But Stan began to examine the trees, chose the very finest, climbed up
into one and tied its top with a wild grape-vine to the next. So,
without saying a word, he continued to fasten one splendid tree to
another.
"What are you doing there?" asked the dragon.
"You see what I am doing," replied Stan, working quietly on.
"Why are you tying the trees together?"
"Why, to save myself unnecessary work in pulling them up one by one,"
said Stan.
"But how are you going to carry them home?"
"I shall take the whole forest, you goose! Can't you understand that?"
said Stan, continuing to fasten them together.
The dragon now felt as if he wanted to take to his heels, and never
stop until he reached home.
But he was afraid that he should suddenly find Stan pulling the whole
forest down on his head.
This time, as it was the end of the year's service, it seemed as if
the discussion would never cease. Stan did not want to listen at all,
but had set his mind upon flinging the forest on his back at any rate.
"I'll tell you what," said the dragon, trembling with fear, "your
wages shall be seven times seven sacks of ducats. Content yourself
with that."
"Well, be it so, as I see you are a good fellow," replied Stan, and
agreed that the dragon should carry the wood for him.
The year was now over. Stan was anxious only about one things--how he
was to drag so many ducats home.
In the evening, the dragon and his mother sat talking together in
their room; but Stan listened in the entry.
"Woe betide us!" said the dragon: "this fellow upsets us terribly.
Give him money, even more than he has, only let us get rid of him."
Ah, yes! but the she-dragon cared for money.
"Let me tell you one thing," she said: "you must kill this man
to-night."
"I am afraid of him, mother," he answered in terror.
"Have no fear," replied his mother. "When you see that he is asleep,
take your club and strike him in the middle of the forehead."
So it was agreed. Ah, yes! but Stan always had a bright idea at the
right time. When he saw that the dragon and his mother had put out the
light, he took the pig's trough, and laid it bottom upward in his
place, covered it carefully with a shaggy coat, and lay down himself
under the bed, where he began to snore like a person who is sound
asleep.
The dragon went out softly, approached the bed, raised his club, and
struck one blow on the spot where Stan's head ought to have been. The
trough sounded hollow, Stan groaned, and the dragon tiptoed back
again.
Stan then crept out from under the bed, cleaned it, and lay down, but
was wise enough not to close an eye all night long.
The dragon and his mother were rigid with amazement when they saw Stan
come in the next morning as sound as an egg.
"Good morning!"
"Good morning; but how did you sleep last night?"
"Very well," replied Stan. "Only I dreamed that a flea bit me just
here on the forehead, and it seems as if it still pained me."
"Just listen to that, mother!" cried the dragon. "Did you hear? He
talks about a flea, and I hit him with my club!"
This was too much for the she-dragon. She perceived that it isn't
worth while to argue with such people. So they hastened to fill his
sacks, in order to get rid of him as quickly as possible. But poor
Stan now began to perspire. When he stood beside the bags, he trembled
like an aspen leaf, because he was unable to lift even one of them
from the ground. So he stood staring at them.
"Why are you standing there?" asked the dragon.
"H'm! I'm waiting," replied Stan, "because I would rather stay with
you another year. I'm ashamed to have any body see me carry away so
little at one time. I'm afraid people will say, 'Look at Stan Bolovan,
who in one year has grown as weak as a dragon.'"
Now, it was the two dragons' turn to be frightened.
They vainly told him that they would give him seven--nay, three times
seven or even seven times seven--sacks of ducats, if he would only go
away.
"I'll tell you what," said Stan, at last. "As I see you don't want to
keep me, I won't force you to do so. Have it your own way. I'll go.
But, that I need not be ashamed before the people, you must carry this
treasure home for me."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when the dragon picked up
the sacks and set off with Stan.
Short and smooth, yet always too long, is the road that leads home.
But, when Stan found himself close to his house, and heard his
children's shouts, he began to walk slower. It seemed too near; for he
was afraid that, if the dragon knew where he lived, he might come to
take away the treasure. Only he was puzzled to find any way of
carrying his money home alone.
"I really don't know what to do," he said, turning to the dragon. "I
have a hundred hungry children, and fear you may fare badly among
them, because they are very fond of fighting. But just behave
sensibly, and I'll protect you as well as I can."
A hundred children! That's no joke! The dragon--though a dragon of
dragon race--let the bags fall in his fright. But, from sheer terror,
he picked them up again. Yet his fear did not gain the mastery till
they entered the court-yard. When the hungry children saw their father
coming with the loaded dragon, they rushed toward him, each one with a
knife in the right hand and a fork in the left. Then they all began to
whet the knives on the forks, shrieking at the top of their lungs, "We
want dragon meat!"
This was enough to scare Satan himself. The dragon threw down the
sacks, and then took to flight, so frightened that since that time he
has never dared to come back to the world.
The Wonderful Bird.
Once upon a time, something happened. If it had not happened, it would
not be told.
There was a good, pious emperor, who had three sons. Among many other
benefits bestowed upon the inhabitants of his empire he built a
church, about which marvelous stories were told, for he adorned it
with gold, precious stones and every thing the workmen of that country
regarded as beautiful and valuable. Within and in front of this church
were numbers of marble columns, and it was supplied with the finest
paintings, silver chandeliers, huge silver lamps, and the rarest
books. The more the emperor rejoiced in its beauty, the more sorrowful
he felt that he could not finish it, for the steeple continually fell
down.
"How is it that this sacred church can not be completed?" he asked. "I
have spent all my property and it is not yet done." So he ordered a
proclamation to be sent throughout the empire, stating that any
architect who could finish the church steeple would receive great
gifts and honors. Besides this, a second proclamation was issued,
commanding prayers to be read and services held in all the churches,
that God might take pity on him and send him a good architect. The
third night the monarch dreamed that if any one would fetch the
wonderful bird from the other shore and put its nest in the steeple,
the church could be finished. He told this dream to his sons, and they
vied with each other in offering to set out and devote themselves to
their imperial father's service.
The emperor replied: "I see, my sons, that you all desire to fulfill
your duty to God, but you can't all three go at once. My oldest son
shall set out first, if he does not succeed, the second one, and so on
until the Lord takes pity upon us."
The younger sons silently submitted; the oldest one made his
preparations for the journey. He traveled as best he could, and when
he had passed the frontiers of his father's empire, found himself in a
beautiful grove. After lighting a fire he stood waiting until his food
was cooked. Suddenly he saw a fox, which begged him to tie up his
hound, give it a bit of bread and a glass of wine, and let it rest by
his fire. Instead of granting the request the prince released the
hound, which instantly pursued the animal, whereupon the fox, by a
magic spell, transformed the emperor's son into a block of stone.
When the sovereign saw that his oldest son did not return, he listened
to the entreaties of his second son, and gave him permission to set
forth to find the wonderful bird. After making his preparations and
taking some provisions with him, this prince also departed. On the
spot where his brother had been turned to stone, the same thing
happened to him, because he also refused the fox's entreaties, and
tried to catch it, to get its skin.
The emperor grew very thoughtful, when after a long time his sons
failed to return, either with or without the wonderful bird.
At last the youngest said: "You see, father, it is now a long time
since my brothers set out to find the wonderful bird, and they haven't
come home yet; give me some money and clothes for the journey that I
may try my luck also. If I succeed, you will rejoice, because your
dream will be fulfilled, and if I do not, you will suffer no
mortification from it."
"Your older brothers have apparently been unable to get this wonderful
bird," replied the emperor; "nay, perhaps they have even lost their
lives, they have been absent so long. I am old; if you go too, who
will help me in the cares of government; if I die, who is there to
ascend the throne except you, my son? Stay here, my dear child, do not
leave me."
"You know, my royal father, that I have never swerved a hair's breadth
from your commands, and if I now venture to urge my petition it is
only because, if possible, I would fain fulfill a wish that gives you
no rest, which you have cherished so many years and striven to realize
at so great a cost."
After many entreaties, the emperor yielded. The prince chose from the
imperial stables a horse that pleased him, took a dog for a
companion, supplied himself with sufficient food and departed.
After some time had passed, the emperor's two older sons suddenly
arrived with the magic bird and a young girl, who was placed in charge
of the poultry-yard. Every body wondered at the beauty of the bird,
whose plumage glittered with a thousand hues, each feather shining
like the sun, and the church-steeple did not fall after the bird and
its nest were placed within. One thing, however, was noticed; the bird
seemed dumb, it never uttered a note, and all who saw it grieved that
so beautiful a creature should have no song; even the emperor, spite
of all the pleasure he took in the church and steeple, was sorrowful
because the bird did not sing.
People began to forget the youngest son, so great was the rejoicing
over the bird that seemed to keep the steeple from falling, and thus
enabled the workmen to finish the church; but the emperor grieved
because the prince was not there to share his subjects' pleasure.
One day the poultry-keeper came to him and said: "May thy face shine,
mighty emperor, the whole city is marveling at the singing of the
magic bird--a shepherd entered the church early this morning, and the
bird instantly began to sing as if it would burst its throat, and is
so happy that it can hardly keep in its nest. This has happened to-day
for the second time. While the shepherd is in the church the bird
never stops singing, but as soon as he goes away, it is silent."
"Let the shepherd be brought before me at once."
"Your majesty, the shepherd seems to be a stranger; no one here knows
him. Your majesty's sons, I hear, have set guards to arrest him."
"Silence," said the emperor; "do not mention my sons; it is not seemly
for you to speak against them."
The sovereign sent some of his most trusty servants to keep watch,
seize the shepherd as soon as he entered the church and the bird began
to sing, and bring him before him. But, not content with this, he went
himself the next holiday to hear the bird's wonderful singing with his
own ears, and see the shepherd. If he had not been present, a violent
conflict would have arisen between his own people and the spies sent
by his sons, who evidently wished to lay hands on the shepherd. The
emperor ordered that he should be brought to the palace, for a strange
feeling stirred in his heart when he saw the timid youth with the
figure of a hero.
When he came out of church, the monarch went directly home to his
palace, for his heart told him that there must be something unusual
about this shepherd. On seeing him, he said:--
"Tell me, my son, from what part of the country do you come? Have you
any parents, and how did you get here?"
"My story is a long one, most noble emperor. I have parents and
brothers. I shall need more time to tell you how I came hither, but if
it is your majesty's will, I am ready. I will come to your majesty
early to-morrow morning, it is too late to-day."
"Very well, my brave fellow, I will expect you at dawn to-morrow."
Early the next morning the shepherd came to await the emperor's
commands; but as soon as the emperor heard that he had arrived, he
summoned him.
"Tell me, my son, what is the reason the magic bird sings as soon as
you enter the church, and stops when you go out."
"To understand that and other things, your majesty, let me tell you my
whole story."
"I will listen; tell me anything you please."
The shepherd then began:--
"I have a father, and brothers. I left my home to do something to
please my father, who was sad because he had a wish that could not be
fulfilled. After a journey of several days I reached a beautiful
meadow, from which branched several roads. Intending to spend the
night there, I lighted a fire, took out some of the provisions I had
brought with me, and was just sitting down to eat them, when I
suddenly saw a fox beside me. Whence it came I did not know; it seemed
as if it had sprung up out of the earth.
"'Please let me warm myself by your fire,' it said. 'See, I am so cold
that my teeth chatter. Give me a bit of bread and a glass of wine,
that I may satisfy my hunger and thirst, and tie your dog, so I can
eat in peace and rest without fear.'
"'Very well,' I replied, 'come and warm yourself. Here are my
provisions and my flask, eat and drink as much as you choose.'
"I tied my dog, and we sat down by the fire and talked together. Among
other things, I told the fox where I was going, and even asked if it
could tell me what I should do to accomplish the task I had
voluntarily undertaken.
"'Have no anxiety about that,' replied the fox. 'We'll set out
together early to-morrow morning, and if I don't help you to the goal,
never trust me again.'
"We sat by the fire, feasting like two friends, then the fox bade me
good-night, and vanished like a shadow. I wondered how it had been
possible that I did not see what direction the animal took, and while
racking my brains to find out how it had managed to go and come
unperceived, I fell asleep. When the fox came at dawn next morning, it
found me gazing in astonishment at several blocks of stone, which
resembled two men, two dogs, and two horses. As soon as I saw the
animal, we prepared to set out.
"The fox turned three somersaults and suddenly changed into a handsome
hero. On the way he told me that the place where I had spent the night
was part of his property, that he was married and had several
children, but had been condemned to wear the form of a fox until some
human being would take pity on him and receive him, let him warm
himself by the same fire, give him a bit of bread and glass of wine.
As I was this man, he was now released from the spell, and would go
with me and never leave me until I had accomplished my object. This
event pleased me, and we journeyed on and on all through the long
summer day until late at night when we reached a mountain meadow,
where we encamped. My traveling companion told me that the next day we
should be obliged to pass through the lands of several dragons, and he
thought we should there find what we sought.
"The following morning we entered the dragons' country, though
somewhat timidly, and about noon reached the dragon-palace. It is
impossible to describe the magnificent things we saw there. Gardens
with all sorts of flowers and fruits, rooms that seemed lined with
silver, so that they shone in the sun like mirrors, walls covered with
paintings and carved flowers. Every corner of the palace was gilded,
and fountains cast jets of water into the air. Luckily for us, the
dragons were not at home when we arrived. On the threshold we met a
beautiful girl, a girl who looked as sweet as if she were made of
sugar, and who advised us not to enter the court-yard in the dragons'
absence, or we should meet with some misfortune. Then she wept for joy
at seeing people from the place from whence the dragons had stolen
her. When we asked her about the wonderful bird, she said it was in
the possession of some other dragons, relatives of those on whose
lands we were.
"'Go there,' she added, 'for with God's help, I hope you will succeed,
and when you return, take me with you.'
"After she had told us how we could enter the dragons' court-yard and
what we must do, I swore by what was dearest to me in the world, my
father, that I would not leave her in the dragons' power, but take
her away. Then we continued the journey. To tell the truth, I loved
her as soon as I saw her.
"When we reached the borders of the next dragon-kingdom, we stopped to
rest, but at dawn the following day we crossed the frontier and by
noon reached their palace, which was even more beautiful than the
first one. As soon as I had dismounted from my horse, I went to the
stable, but my companion turned back, for this was what the girl had
advised. The horses were at their cribs. One turned its head and
looked at me. I patted its eyes, pulled its ears, threw a bridle over
its neck, mounted it, and in riding by, took the cage with the magic
bird that hung in the entry."
"You brought the wonderful bird?" cried the emperor. "Then you are my
son, whom all believe dead."
"Even so, father." And after kissing the emperor's hand, he begged him
to send for the poultry-keeper. When she came, the shepherd said,
"This is the girl of whom I told you."
"How is that possible!" replied the emperor. "How did she become a
poultry maid?"
"She'll tell you that herself. I don't know. So, as I was saying," he
continued, "after I had snatched the cage I fled as fast as I could on
the horse I had taken from the dragons, but the other horses began to
neigh and make such a noise that my hair fairly bristled, yet I held
firm. The dragons chased me until I reached my comrade, who was
waiting for me on the frontier. If it had not been for him, they
would have seized me, and who knows what would have become of me then.
But my companion stretched out his hand, shouting, 'Stop!' The dragons
seemed to be suddenly turned to stone; not another step forward did
they take. After embracing and kissing me he admired the bird's
beauty. The dragons did every thing in their power to get it from me,
and made all sorts of promises, but when they saw they could not
persuade me, begged me at least to give them the horse. I perceived it
would not be right to leave them in such a sad state, so I returned
the horse and went on with my companion and the bird, but the dragons
almost stared their eyes out after it.
"When we reached the other dragon palace, the girl was waiting for us
at the gate. Cracking her whip three times the whole building changed
into an apple, which she put in her pocket. I passed my arm around
her, and we set out. But oh! dear, when the dragons discovered it! How
they chased us, roaring so that our blood curdled in our veins. I
summoned all my courage, spurred my horse, and fled like the wind with
my companion. But the dragons came as fast as thought. When my comrade
saw this, and perceived that there was no possibility of escape, he
stopped, made a sign and turned them into blocks of stone. Then we
continued our journey till we reached the field from which we had
started and which was part of the fox's property. After we had rested
and I had thanked God that we had accomplished our task, I asked my
comrade what those stone pillars meant.
"He answered: 'If you know you will regret it, and if you don't know,
you will also regret it.'
"'Pray tell me.'
"'These are your brothers,' he answered. 'Instead of kindly granting
my request, as you did, they set their hounds on me, which condemned
me to wear the loathsome fox-skin still longer, so I turned them to
stone.'
"'For my sake,' I entreated, 'for the sake of our friendship, make
them men again as they were before.'
"'I prize your friendship greatly,' he replied, 'so let it be as you
wish--but you'll repent it.'
"In an instant he made a sign with his hand, the stones suddenly
shook, and my brothers remained motionless with amazement, when they
saw us before them. We took leave of my comrade and set out on our way
home. But see what a fine trick my brothers played me.
"'Brother,' they said, after we had ridden about a mile, 'we are tired
by the long distance, and it is very warm. Let us go to a pond we know
here and each drink a little to cool ourselves.' I agreed, and we went
there. The oldest drank, so did the second one, but when I was going
to drink too, lying face downward at the edge of the pond, so that I
could reach the water with my lips, as they had done, I suddenly felt
a terrible burning sensation in both feet, and when I turned to see
the cause, could not get up; my brothers had cut off both my feet, and
then hurried off, without listening to my complaints and entreaties.
"I spent three days and nights beside the pond. When my good horse saw
a dragon coming, it lifted me by my clothes with its teeth, ran as far
as it could and kicked so violently that no wild beast could approach
us.
"At last, on the fourth day, I met a blind man groping his way along.
'Who are you?' I asked.
"'A poor, maimed fellow,' said he. Then, after he had told me that his
brothers, out of envy, had put out his eyes, I told him that my
brothers had cut off my feet.
"'I'll tell you what!' he exclaimed. 'We'll take an oath of
brotherhood. I have feet, you have eyes, so I'll carry you on my back.
I'll walk for you, and you shall see for me. A huge scorpion lives
close by, whose blood cures all kinds of diseases.'
"I accepted his offer, and we went to the scorpion's house. He was not
at home, so the blind man put me behind the door, telling me to kill
him with my sword as soon as he came in; then he hid himself behind
the stove. We did not wait long before the scorpion entered in a great
rage, for he had noticed that somebody had broken into his house. When
I saw him my heart shrunk till it was no bigger than a flea, but as he
came in I waited till he was close by me, then struck one blow that
chopped all three of his heads off at once.
"I instantly smeared myself with the hot blood and as soon as it
touched my feet they stuck as fast as if they had never been cut off.
I also smeared the blind man's eyes, and his sight returned. After
thanking God, each set out on his own way.
"I did not want to go home at once, but thought it best to hire out as
a shepherd and leave God to arrange things so that the criminals'
guilt should appear. I was not disappointed in my confidence, for you
see His power is great and His judgment just."
"Now tell me how you became a servant and poultry-maid," said the
emperor to the maiden.
"After your imperial majesty's oldest sons had cut off their youngest
brother's feet, one of them took me, the other the wonderful bird. I
thought my heart would dissolve with grief because I was obliged to
part from your majesty's youngest son, whom I loved because he was
such a noble man. They proposed that I should love one of them, and
promised that he would marry me as soon as we reached the emperor's
court. After refusing all their offers, I preferred to take service as
your majesty's poultry maid, rather than go any where else, for I knew
God would not let a man who did right perish, and now I thank Him for
having shown me that a good deed is never lost."
"Can you prove," asked the emperor, "that you are the girl and no one
else?"
"This apple will show every one that I am she," replied the girl,
drawing it from her bosom. "Your older sons knew nothing about it, or
they would have taken it from me."
With these words she went out of doors, cracked a little whip three
times over the apple and a magnificent palace, more splendid than any
in the kingdom, instantly arose.
The emperor himself was astonished. He wished to celebrate his
youngest son's return, but the latter said, "Father, before we thank
God that I have come home alive, let us three brothers submit to His
judgment."
The emperor could make no objection. The brothers were led before him
and he ordered the older ones to kneel and ask the youngest son's
forgiveness. But he replied: "If God forgives you, I will also."
As they could not avoid it, they went in front of the church, and set
out three bee-hives at equal distances apart. Each brother stood with
his feet in one, and hurled a stone into the air from a sling. The
elder brothers' stones in falling back struck them so hard on the head
that they were killed, but the youngest brother's fell in front of
him.
Many had assembled to witness this trial. After the wedding was over
and the emperor had married his son to the poultry-maid, he came down
from the throne and gave it to the prince, who, if alive, reigns there
still.
I was present at these events, and now tell them to those who listen.
The Twins With the Golden Star.
Once upon a time something happened. If it hadn't happened, it
wouldn't be told.
There was an emperor, who ruled over a whole world, and in this world
lived an old shepherd and shepherdess, who had three daughters, Anna,
Stana, and Laptitza.[1]
[Footnote 1: Little Milk-white, from "Lapte"--milk.]
Anna, the oldest sister, was so beautiful that the sheep stopped
feeding when she went among them; Stana, the second, was so lovely
that the wolves watched the herd when she was the shepherdess, but
Laptitza, the youngest, who had a skin as white as the foam of milk,
and hair as soft as the wool of the lambkins, was as beautiful as both
of her sisters put together, beautiful as only she herself could be.
One summer day, when the sunbeams were growing less scorching, the
three sisters went to the edge of the forest to pick strawberries.
While searching for them, they heard the tramp of horses' hoofs, as if
a whole troop of cavalry were dashing up. It was the emperor's son,
hunting with his friends and courtiers, all handsome, stately youths,
sitting their horses as if they were a part of their steeds, but the
handsomest and proudest of all rode the most fiery charger, and was
the emperor's son himself.
When they saw the sisters, they curbed their horses and rode more
slowly.
"Listen to me, sisters," said Anna; "if one of those youths should
choose me for his wife, I'd knead a loaf of bread which, when he had
eaten it, would make him always feel young and brave."
"And I," said Stana, "would weave my husband a shirt, in which he
could fight against dragons, go through water without being wet, or
fire without being burned."
"But I," said Laptitza, the youngest sister, "would give my husband
two beautiful sons, twin boys with golden hair, and on their foreheads
a golden star, a star as bright as Lucifer."
The youths heard these words, and turning their horses dashed toward
the maidens.
"Sacred be thy promise, thou shalt be mine, fairest empress," cried
the emperor's son, lifting Laptitza with her berries upon his horse.
"And thou shalt be mine!" "And thou shalt be mine!" said a second and
third youth; so bearing their lovely burdens on their steeds, all
dashed back to the imperial court.
The three weddings were celebrated the very next day, and for three
days and nights the festival was held throughout the empire with great
pomp and splendor. After three days and nights the news went through
the whole country that Anna had gathered grain, ground, boiled, and
kneaded it, and made a loaf of bread, as she had promised while
picking strawberries. Then, after three more days and nights, tidings
went through the land that Stana had collected flax, dried, and
hackled it, spun it into linen, wove the cloth, and made her husband a
shirt as she had promised while seeking for her strawberries. Laptitza
alone had not yet kept her word, but great things require time.
When seven weeks had passed, counting from the wedding day, the
emperor's son, now emperor, appeared before his brave companions and
the other courtiers with a very joyous face, and in a much softer
voice than ever before informed them that henceforth he should not
leave the court for a long time, his heart moved him to stay with his
wife night and day.
So the world, the country, and the whole empire rejoiced in the
expectation of seeing something never beheld before.
But many things happen in this world, among them much that is good and
much that is evil.
The emperor had a step-mother, who had brought with her to the palace
a daughter of her first husband, a girl with beautiful hair. But woe
betide those who have such relationships.
The step-mother had intended that her daughter should become the
emperor's wife and empress of the whole country, instead of little
Milk-white, the shepherd's daughter. Therefore she determined that if
things fell out as Laptitza had promised, the emperor and the world
should believe they did not happen according to the prediction.
But the step-mother could not carry out her plan, because the emperor
remained with his wife day and night. Yet she thought that gradually,
by coaxing and cunning, she might get rid of him, and then Laptitza
would be left in her care and she would provide for every thing.
But she could not get rid of the emperor by means of a few coaxing
words. The wind blew them away, and all her craft was useless. Time
passed, the day for the fulfillment of Laptitza's promise was drawing
near, and still the emperor never left his wife.
When the step-mother saw that no plot succeeded, she felt as if a
stone were lying heavy on her heart, and sent a message to her
brother, whose kingdom was very near, to ask him to come with his
soldiers and summon the emperor to a war.
This was a clever plan and, as will be seen, not an unsuccessful one.
The emperor fairly leaped into the air in his rage, when he heard that
hostile soldiers were on the march to attack his country, and that
something would occur which had not happened for a long time--a
battle, a terrible battle, a battle between two emperors. The young
husband saw that there was no help for it, he must do what needed to
be done.
That is the way with emperors. No matter how much they wish to guard
their wives--if they hear of war, their hearts fairly leap in their
bodies, their brains swell almost to bursting, their eyes grow dim,
and leaving wife and children in God's care, they dash like the wind
to battle.
The emperor departed at the first sign of peril, moved as swiftly as
one of God's judgments, fought as only he could fight, and at dawn on
the morning of the third day was back again at the imperial court, his
heart soothed by the battle, but full of unsatisfied longing to know
what had happened during his absence.
And--this had happened. Just at dawn on the morning of the third day,
when the stars were paling in the sky, and the emperor was only three
steps from the palace-gate, the Lord's gift came down to the earth,
and Laptitza's promise was fulfilled--two beautiful twin princes,
exactly alike, each with golden hair and a golden star on his
forehead.
But the world was not to see them!
The step-mother, as wicked as her thoughts, hastily put two puppies in
the place of the beautiful twins, and buried the golden-haired
children at the corner of the palace, just under the emperor's
windows.
When the monarch entered the palace he saw and heard nothing except
the two puppies the step-mother had put in the twins' place. No words
were wasted. The emperor saw with his own eyes, and that was enough.
Laptitza had not kept her promise, and there was nothing to be done
except mete out her punishment.
He could not help it, and though his own heart was torn, commanded
that the empress should be buried to her breast in the earth and so
remain before the eyes of the world, in token of what befell those
who tried to deceive an emperor.
The next day the step-mother's wish was fulfilled. The emperor married
a second time, and again the wedding festivities lasted three days and
three nights.
But God's blessing does not rest upon unjust deeds.
The two princes found no rest in the earth. Two beautiful aspens
sprang up where they were buried, but when the step-mother saw them
she ordered them to be pulled up by the roots. The emperor, however,
said: "Let them grow, I like to see them before the window. I never
beheld such aspens before."