determined to look for children whatever might happen.
The old man went one way, the old woman another, to find a child
somewhere.
The old man met a dog, the old woman a mouse. When they met again the
old woman asked:
"Husband, what have you found?"
"A little dog. And you, wife?"
"A little mouse."
They now agreed to adopt the mouse for a child and drive the dog away,
so the couple returned with the mouse, greatly delighted because they
had found what they sought, that is, a child.
On reaching home the old woman began to make a fire; then she set the
pot of sour buttermilk on to boil, and left the mouse to watch that it
did not fall over, while she went to work with the old man in the
fields.
After she had gone, the porridge boiled and splashed over the top of
the pot; the mouse, which was sitting on the hearth, said:
"Porridge, don't jump on me or I'll jump on you." But the buttermilk
did not stop and still splashed over the brim. When the mouse saw
this, it grew angry and leaped straight into the pot.
When the old people returned from hoeing and called their child, there
was no child to be found. After searching for it a long time without
success, they sat sadly down to eat their dinner. Yet they ate the
porridge with great relish until, when the old woman emptied the dish
she found at the bottom--what? The little mouse, their child, dead!
She began:
"Husband, husband, here it is, our child is drowned in the
buttermilk."
"How is that possible, wife!" replied the bearded old fellow.
When they saw this terrible accident, they began to weep and lament
bitterly; the old man in his grief tore his beard, and the old woman
pulled the hair out of her head.
The old man left the house with tearful eyes and touzled beard; on the
bough of a tree, in front of the hut, perched a magpie, which seeing
him asked:
"Why have you pulled out your beard, old man?"
"Oh, my dear bird, how can I help tearing my beard, when my little
child has drowned itself in the pot of porridge and is dead?"
When the magpie heard this, it tore out all its feathers, leaving
nothing but the tail.
The old woman set off with her bald head to the well, to get a jug of
water to wash the dead body of her child.
By the well stood a girl with a pitcher, who had come to draw water;
when she saw the old woman she asked:
"My, old woman, why have you torn the hair out of your head till you
are perfectly bald?"
"Alas, my darling, how can I help tearing my hair and making myself
bald, when my little mouse is dead?"
The girl, in her grief, smashed her pitcher in two, then she hurried
to the empress to tell her the story; the royal lady, as soon as she
heard it, fell down from the balcony, broke her ankle, and died, while
the emperor, out of love for his wife, went away and became a monk in
the monastery of Lies, beyond the Country of Truth; while I
Acquaintance made with grandsires old,
To whom this simple tale I told,
It seemed to them such perfect chaff
That its bare memory raised a laugh.
The Pea Emperor.
Once upon a time something wonderful happened. If it hadn't happened,
it wouldn't be told.
There was once a good for nothing fellow, who was so poor and needy
that he had not even enough to eat to be able to drink water after it.
When he had wandered through all the countries in the world, he
returned home somewhat more sensible. He had passed through many
perils abroad, knocked his head against the top of the door, been
sifted through the coarse and the fine sieve. He would now gladly have
pursued some trade, but he had no money. One day he found three peas.
After picking them up from the ground he took them on the palm of his
hand, looked at them, pondered a long time, and then said laughing:
"If I plant these seeds in the ground, I shall have a hundred in a
year; if I afterward plant the hundred, I shall have thousands, and if
I put these thousands in the earth I shall reap who knows how many!
Then, if I go on in this way, I shall finally become a rich man. But
if I could help wealth to come quicker--let me see!"
He went to the emperor and begged him to order through the whole
empire barrels in which to keep his peas.
When the emperor heard that he needed such a quantity of barrels, he
thought he must be stifling in money, and was more and more convinced
of it when he entered into conversation with him. What is true must
remain true; he didn't keep his mouth shut, but opened it and bragged
till it would have been supposed that real pearls fell from his lips.
He told the emperor what he had seen in foreign lands, related how
things were here and there, spoke of this and that, till the emperor
stood before him with his mouth wide open. When he saw that the
emperor marveled at his statements, he bragged more and more, saying
that he had palaces, herds, and other riches.
The sovereign believed the boaster's stories, and said to him:
"I see that you have traveled, know a great deal, and are cunning and
experienced; if you wish, I will gladly give you my daughter in
marriage."
The braggart now regretted having told so many lies, for he did not
know how to escape the monarch's proposal. After reflecting a short
time, he plucked up courage and said "I will gladly accept the
position of son-in-law you offer, and will try to show you that I am
worthy of it."
The necessary preparations were made, and after some time an imperial
wedding was celebrated in the palace. Then the man remained there.
One, two, several weeks elapsed, and no trace of peas and wealth
appeared. Finally the emperor began to repent what he had done, but
there was no help for it and the emperor's son-in-law perceived, from
the manner of the courtiers and nobles, that they had very little
respect for him.
His cheeks burned with shame. He made useless plans, tortured himself
to find some means of getting out of the scrape, and could not even
sleep at night. One morning without any one's knowledge he left the
palace at dawn, walked on till he came to a meadow, and wandered along
absorbed in thought, without knowing where he was going. Suddenly a
rosy-cheeked man stood before him, and asked: "Where are you going,
gossip, you look as sad and thoughtful as if all your ships had sunk
in the sea."
The emperor's son-in-law related his dilemma and what he was seeking,
and the man replied:
"If I deliver you from your difficulty, what will you give me?"
"Whatever you ask," he answered.
"There are nine of us brothers," said the man, "and each knows a
riddle. If you guess them our whole property shall be yours, but if
not, your first child must be ours."
The emperor's son-in-law, utterly crushed with shame, agreed, hard as
it was for him, hoping that before the child was born he might find
somebody who could tell him what to do.
So they set out together, that the stranger might show him the herds
of cattle he owned and his palaces, which were not far off. They also
instructed the herdsmen, swineherds, shepherds, and laborers what
they were to say, if any body asked to whom the flocks and herds
belonged.
The emperor's son-in-law returned to the palace and said that he would
take his wife home the next day. On his way back he met an old man in
the fields, and, seeing how aged and feeble he was, he pitied him and
offered him alms. The old man would accept nothing, but asked
permission to enter his service, telling him that he would be none the
worse for it, and the other received him. When the emperor heard that
his son-in-law wanted to go to his own palace, he was so delighted
that he commanded every thing to be arranged on a grand scale in order
to accompany him with imperial honors.
Therefore, on the following day, the whole court was filled with
nobles, soldiers, and attendants of all kinds. All the directions for
the journey had been given by the old man who had taken service with
the emperor's son-in-law; he said that he was the Pea Emperor's
steward, and all praised his energy, dignity, and industry.
The emperor was in high spirits and set out with the empress, the Pea
Emperor, and his bride, for his son-in-law's possessions. The old
servant went before and had every thing in good order. But the poor
Pea Emperor was as pale and dejected as if somebody had showered him
with boiling water. He was thinking of the riddles and how he could
guess them.
They drove and drove till they reached the fields. Here was a
beautiful meadow, beyond it a grove like the Garden of Paradise. When
the overseer of the fields saw them, he came up cap in hand.
"To whom do these estates belong, my friend?" asked the emperor.
"To the Pea Emperor," replied the man.
The emperor grew fat with joy, for he now believed that his son-in-law
really was no beggar. They drove on some distance further and met
numerous flocks and herds of all sorts of animals; the emperor asked
one keeper after another to whom they belonged, and all replied: "To
the Pea Emperor."
But when they reached the palace of the nine dragons the emperor
marveled at its magnificence. Every thing was in order. They were
received at the gate by a band of musicians, who played the most
beautiful tunes ever heard. The interior of the palace was adorned
with real gems. A magnificent banquet was hastily prepared, and they
drank the finest wine.
After the emperor had wished his son-in-law every happiness, he
returned to his own home greatly delighted with the riches he had
seen. But the Pea Emperor was almost dead with anxiety.
Evening came. The old servant said to his master:
"Master, what you have seen of me since I entered your service must
have convinced you of my fidelity. Now I assure you that I can help
you still more."
"Are you telling the truth?" asked the Pea Emperor.
"Do not doubt me for an instant, master! And I ask one thing besides:
let me spend the night in some corner of the chamber where you are
sleeping, even if it is behind the door. Moreover, I advise you not to
answer a single word, no matter who calls you by name or how great a
noise is made."
"Be it so!" said the Pea Emperor. And so it was.
After they had lain down and put out the light, they heard a dull,
rumbling noise like an approaching thunder storm. Then a hoarse, rough
voice said:
"Pea Emperor, Pea Emperor!"
"What do you want?" replied the old man.
"I'm not calling you," it replied, "I'm calling the Pea Emperor."
"That's just the same thing," replied the old man, "my master is
asleep, he's tired."
Then the noise of many voices was heard, as if people were quarreling!
Again the first one repeated: "Pea Emperor, Pea Emperor!"
"What is it?" the old man answered.
"What is one?"
"The moon is one."
"Is it you, master?"
"Burst, dragon!"
Then a terrible wailing arose, as if all the spirits of evil were
abroad, and another voice said:
"What is two?"
"Two eyes in the head see well."
"Is it you, master?"
"Burst, dragon!"
"What is three?"
"Where there are three grown daughters in a house, _beware_ of putting
your head in."
"Is it you, master?"
"Burst, dragon!"
"What is four?"
"The cart with four wheels runs well."
"Is it you, master?"
"Burst, dragon!"
"What is five?"
"Five fingers on the hand hold well."
"Is it you, master?"
"Burst, dragon!"
Again there was a noise like a thunder storm, and the palace shook as
if the earth was quaking. And again there was a shout for the Pea
Emperor. But the latter became more and more quiet, and scarcely
ventured to breathe, but remained perfectly still. This time, too, the
old servant answered. Another voice asked:
"What is six?"
"The flute with six holes blows well."
"Is it you, master?"
"Burst, dragon!"
"What is seven?"
"Where there are seven brothers, don't meddle with their affairs."
"Is it you, master?"
"Burst, dragon!"
"What is eight?"
"The plow with eight oxen furrows the earth well."
"Is it you, master?"
"Burst, dragon!"
"What is nine?"
"Where there are nine grown daughters in a house, it is not swept."
"Is it you, master?"
"Burst, dragon!"
The Pea Emperor, who heard all this, could not sleep all night long,
even when it grew so still that one might have heard a fly buzz; he
waited for daylight with the utmost impatience.
When he rose the next morning the old servant had vanished. He went
out of the palace, and what did he behold? The scattered corpses of
nine dragons, which he gave to the ravens. While thanking God for
having preserved his life and delivered him from disgrace, he heard a
sweet voice say:
"Your compassion for the poor man saved you. Always be charitable."
The Morning Star and The Evening Star.
Once upon a time something extraordinary happened. If it had not
happened it would not be told.
There was once an emperor and empress who were childless. So they
sought out all the wizards and witches, all the old women and
astrologers; but their skill proved vain, no one knew how to help
them. At last the royal pair devoted themselves to almsgiving,
praying, and fasting, until one night the empress dreamed that the
Lord had taken pity on her, and appearing to her, said: "I have heard
your prayers, and will give you a child whose like can not be found on
earth. Your husband, the emperor, must go to the brook to-morrow with
a hook and line, then you are to prepare with your own hands the fish
he catches, and eat it."
Before it was fairly daylight, the empress went to the emperor and
woke him, saying: "Rise, my royal husband, it is morning."
"Why, what ails you to-day, wife, that you wake me so early?" the
emperor replied. "Has any foe crossed the frontiers of my country?"
"Heaven forbid. I've heard nothing of that sort, but listen to my
dream."
And she told him about it.
When the emperor heard her story he jumped out of bed, dressed, took
the hook and line, and, gasping for breath, went to the brook. He
threw in the hook and soon saw the cork on the line bob. He pulled it
out, and what did he see? A big fish, made entirely of gold. It was a
wonder that he did not die of joy. But what did the empress say when
_she_ saw it? She was still more out of her wits.
The empress cooked the fish with her own hands, the royal couple ate
it, and the empress instantly felt that the promise would be
fulfilled.
The maid-servant who cleared away the table saw a fish-bone on the
empress' plate, and thought she would suck it, to know how food tastes
when prepared by royal hands.
One day the empress received the gift of a beautiful boy, as handsome
as a little angel. That same night the maid-servant, too, had a son
who looked so exactly like the prince that they could not be
distinguished from each other. The maid-servant's child precisely
resembled the royal one. The prince was named Busujok,[2] the
maid-servant's son was called Siminok.[3]
[Footnote 2: Busujok: Basil.]
[Footnote 3: Siminok: Geaphalium, cat's foot.]
They grew up together, were taught their lessons, and learned as much
in one day as other children in a whole year. When they were playing
in the garden, the empress watched them from her window with great
delight.
They became tall youths and looked so much alike that people could
never tell which was the prince and which the maid-servant's son. They
were haughty in bearing, both were charming, winning in speech, and
brave, brave to a fault.
One day they determined to go hunting. But the empress was constantly
fretting herself to find some way of recognizing her own son, for as
their faces were alike and their clothes precisely the same, she often
could not distinguish one from the other. She therefore thought of
putting some mark on the prince. So she called him, and while
pretending to be playing with his hair, knotted two locks together
without his knowledge. Then the youths went off to hunt.
They hurried joyously through the green fields, skipped about like
lambkins, gathered flowers, sprinkled themselves with dew, watched the
butterflies flit from blossom to blossom, saw the bees gather wax and
honey, and enjoyed themselves to the utmost. Then they went to the
springs, drank some water to refresh themselves, and gazed unweariedly
at the sky, which met the earth on the horizon. They would fain have
gone to the end of the world to see it close at hand, or at least far
enough to reach the spot where the earth grows marshy before it comes
to an end.
Next they went into the woods. When they saw the beauties of the
forest, they stood still with mouths wide open in astonishment.
Consider that they had not beheld any of these things in their whole
lives. When the wind blew and stirred the leaves, they listened to
their rustling, and it seemed as if the empress was passing by,
drawing her silken train after her. Then they sat down on the soft
grass, under the shade of a big tree. Here they began to reflect and
consult each other about how they were to commence hunting. They
wanted to kill nothing but wild beasts. They did not notice the birds
which hopped around them and perched on the boughs of the trees; they
would have been sorry to hurt them, for they liked to listen to their
twitter. It seemed as if the birds knew this; they showed no fear, but
sang as if they were going to split their throats; the nightingales,
however, trilled only from their craws, that their songs might be the
sweeter. While they stood there consulting, the prince suddenly felt
so overwhelmed with fatigue that he could hold out no longer, but
laying his head in Siminok's lap, asked him to stroke his hair.
While he was doing so, Siminok stopped and said:
"What is the matter with your head, Brother Busujok?"
"What should be the matter? How do I know, Brother Siminok?"
"Just see," replied Siminok, "two locks of your hair are tied
together."
"How is that possible?" said Busujok. This discovery vexed the prince
so much that he determined to go out into the wide world.
"Brother Siminok," he said, "I'm going out into the wide world,
because I can't understand why my mother tied my hair while she was
playing with it."
"Listen to reason, Brother Busujok, and do nothing of the sort,"
replied Siminok; "if the empress tied your hair, it certainly was not
for any evil purpose."
But Busujok remained firm in his resolve, and when he took leave of
Siminok, he said to him:
"Take this handkerchief, Brother Siminok, and if you ever see three
drops of blood on it, you will know that I am dead."
"May the Lord help you, Brother Busujok, that you may prosper; but I
beg you once more by my love, stay!"
"Impossible," replied Busujok.
Then the youths embraced each other, and Busujok departed; Siminok
remained behind, gazing longingly after him till he was out of sight.
Siminok then returned to the palace and related all that had happened.
The empress was insane with grief. She wrung her hands and wept till
it was pitiful to see her. But she did not know what to do, and at
last comforted herself a little by gazing at Siminok. After some time
the latter took out the prince's handkerchief, looked at it, and saw
three drops of blood on it. Then he said:
"Oh! my royal brother is dead. I shall go and look for him."
Taking some provisions for the journey, he set out in search of
Busujok. He passed through cities and villages, crossed fields and
forests, wandering on and on till he reached a small hut. There he
met an old woman, whom he asked about his brother. The crone told him
that Busujok had become the son of the emperor who reigned in the
neighborhood.
When Siminok reached this emperor's palace, the princess, as soon as
she saw him, thought that he was her husband and came running to meet
him. But he said: "I am your husband's brother; I have heard that he
is dead, and came here to learn something about him."
"I can not believe it," replied the princess. "You are my husband, and
I don't know why you deny it. Has my faith been put to any test, and
have I ever deceived you?"
"Nothing of the sort. But I tell you truthfully that I am not your
husband."
The princess would not believe this, so Siminok said:
"The Lord will show the truth. Let the sword hanging on yonder nail
scratch whichever of us two is mistaken."
Instantly the sword sprang down and cut the princess' finger. Then she
believed Siminok, and gave him the hospitality which was his due.
The next day he learned that Busujok had gone out hunting and had not
yet returned. So he, too, mounted a horse, took some greyhounds, and
rode after his brother, following the direction in which he had gone.
He rode on and on till he reached a forest, where he met the Wood
Witch. As soon as he saw her, he set off after her. She fled, he
pursued, until perceiving no way of escape she swung herself up into a
tall tree.
Siminok dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, made a fire, took out
his provisions, and began to eat, occasionally tossing the greyhounds
something.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I'm so cold," said the Wood Witch, "my teeth are
chattering."
"Get down and warm yourself by the fire," replied Siminok.
"I'm afraid of the dogs," she said.
"Don't be frightened, they'll do you no harm."
"If you want to do me a favor," the Wood Witch answered, "take a
strand of my hair and tie your dogs with it."
Siminok put the hair in the fire.
"Oh! how horribly the hair I gave you smells--you have put it in the
fire."
"Go away from here and don't talk any more nonsense," replied Siminok.
"One of the hounds put its tail a little too near the fire and
scorched it, that's what smells so badly. If you are cold, come down
and warm yourself, if not, hold your tongue and let me alone."
The Wood Witch believed him, came down, approached the fire, and said:
"I am hungry."
"What shall I give you to eat? Take what you want of all I have."
"I should like to eat you," said the Wood Witch, "prepare for it."
"And I will devour you," replied Siminok.
He set the hounds upon her to tear her to pieces.
"Stop," cried the Wood Witch, "call off your dogs that they may not
tear me, and I'll give you back your brother with his horse, hounds,
and all."
Siminok called off the dogs.
The Wood Witch swallowed three times and up came Busujok, his horse,
and his dogs. Siminok now set his hounds upon her, and they tore her
into mince-meat. When Busujok recovered his senses, he wondered at
seeing Siminok there and said:
"Welcome, I'm glad to meet you so well and gay, Brother Siminok, but
I've been asleep a very long time."
"You might have slept soundly till the end of the world, if I had not
come?" he replied.
Then Siminok told him every thing that had happened from their parting
until that moment.
But Busujok suspected him; he thought that Siminok had won his wife's
love, and would not believe him when he told him the simple
truth--that such an idea had never entered his head.
Now that Busujok had once begun to be jealous of his bride, he acted
like a lunatic! So, being overpowered by evil thoughts, he made an
agreement with Siminok to bandage the eyes of their horses, mount
them, and let them carry their riders wherever they would.
This was done. When Busujok heard a groan he stopped his horse, untied
the bandage, and looked around him. Siminok was nowhere to be seen.
Just think! He had fallen into a spring, been drowned, and never came
out again!
Busujok returned home and questioned his wife; she told just the same
story as Siminok. Then, to be still more certain of the truth, he,
too, ordered the sword to jump down from the wall and scratch the one
who was wrong. The sword leaped down and wounded his middle finger.
The prince pined away, lamenting and weeping bitterly for the loss of
Siminok, and sorely repenting his undue haste, but all was vain,
nothing could be changed. So, in his grief and anguish, he resolved
not to live any longer without his brother, ordered his own eyes and
those of his horse to be bandaged, mounted it, and bade it hasten to
the forest where Siminok had perished. The horse went as fast as it
could, and plump! it tumbled into the very same spring where Siminok
had fallen, and there Busujok, too, ended his days. But at the same
time the morning star, the emperor's son Busujok, and the evening
star, the maid-servant's son Siminok, appeared in the sky.
Into the saddle then I sprung,
This tale to tell to old and young.
The Two Step-Sisters.