and soon attendants came in to escort Lord Kubik out. As he reached
the castle gate, the people cheered and a coach and six drove up. Two
ladies were in it, a mother and daughter, both dressed in beautiful
silks. They alighted from the coach and when they saw Kubik they
smiled and came toward him with outstretched hands.
"You don't know us, do you, Kubik?" the older lady said. "I was that
old frog who coaxed you to the cliff and this, my beautiful daughter,
was the other little frog, the very ugly one, that you feared you
would have to take home to your father's house as your bride. You see,
Kubik, we were all under an evil enchantment. Many years ago a wicked
magician brought ruin on us and our kingdom. He changed our subjects
into snakes and us into frogs and turned our fine city into a rocky
cliff. Nothing could break the enchantment until some one should come
and ask a betrothal gift from my daughter. We lived in the forest for
years and years and all those years I begged all the people who
wandered by to help us but they only trod on us or turned away from us
in disgust. You, Kubik, were the first not to scorn us for our ugly
looks. By this you broke the evil spell that held us and now we are
all free. As a reward you shall marry my daughter, the Princess
Kachenka, and be made king!"
Then the old queen took Kubik by the hand and led him to the royal
coach, where she made him sit between her and the princess. Music
played and the people cheered, and in this style they drove to Kubik's
native village and to his father's house.
The old man was in the yard chopping firewood and his older sons were
helping him. They, too, had brought home their brides, plain country
girls from poor farms, and at that moment they were all awaiting
Kubik's arrival.
"Look, father," the oldest son cried, "some fine folk are turning in
here!"
"We're not behind in our taxes, are we?" the second son asked.
"Hush!" the old man whispered. "I have nothing to fear. My affairs are
all in good order."
He put his cap respectfully under his arm and stood bareheaded and
both his sons followed his example.
The coach drove straight into the yard and a handsome young lord and
two beautiful ladies alighted. The handsome young lord greeted the
old man and his sons and they bowed and scraped and pressed their hats
under their arms tighter and tighter.
Then they all stepped into the old kitchen that was black with the
smoke of many years and the handsome young lord sat down on the bench
behind the table as though that was where he always sat. The two
brothers and their brides shrank back against the oven and held their
breath.
Then the handsome young lord said to the old man: "Don't you know me?"
"Where could I ever have seen your lordship?" the farmer asked,
humbly. He kept bobbing so low it was a wonder he didn't bump his head
against the floor.
"And do neither of your sons know me? I think these are your sons,
aren't they?"
The farmer kept on bowing and the two sons looked down, too
embarrassed to speak.
At length the handsome young lord said: "What, don't you know your own
son, Kubik, whom you used to beat for stealing when he showed you his
betrothal gifts?"
At that the old man looked at him closely and cried out: "Bless my
soul, I believe it is our Kubik! But who could recognize the
boy!... And is this his bride? That settles it! Kubik shall have the
farm! Kubik has brought home the most beautiful bride!"
[Illustration: _Kubik Greeting His Old Father_]
"Kubik doesn't need the farm," the old queen said, "nor will you need
it any longer nor your other sons. You will all come home with us to
our kingdom over which Kubik is now king. And may God grant you many
years to live on in peace and quiet."
The farmer was overjoyed at this arrangement. He embraced his son, and
his son's bride, and his son's royal mother-in-law.
He gave his farm to the poorest man in the village and then he and his
sons accompanied Kubik back to his kingdom. There he lived long in
peace and comfort enjoying the thought that good fortune had come to
them all on account of his determination not to divide the farm.
The poor man who inherited the farm prayed for him and his sons every
night and never tired of telling the story of how Kubik became a king
and his brothers courtiers.
So for many years the memory of Kubik was kept green. Now people are
beginning to forget him, so I thought it was time that I tell his
story again.
GRANDFATHER'S EYES
THE STORY OF THREE WICKED YEZINKAS
[Illustration: {A goat}]
GRANDFATHER'S EYES
Once upon a time there was a poor boy whom everybody called Yanechek.
His father and mother were dead and he was forced to start out alone
in the world to make a living. For a long time he could find nothing
to do. He wandered on and on and at last he came to a little house
that stood by itself near the edge of the woods. An old man sat on the
doorstep and Yanechek could see that he was blind, for there were
empty holes where his eyes used to be.
Some goats that were penned in a shed near the house began bleating
and the old man said:
"You poor things, you want to go to pasture, don't you? But I can't
see to drive you and I have no one else to send."
"Send me, grandfather," Yanechek said. "Take me as your goatherd and
let me work for you."
"Who are you?" the old man asked.
Yanechek told him who he was and the old man agreed to take him.
"And now," he said, "drive the goats to pasture. But one thing,
Yanechek: don't take them to the hill over there in the woods or the
Yezinkas may get you! That's where they caught me!"
Now Yanechek knew that the Yezinkas were wicked witches who lived in a
cave in the woods and went about in the guise of beautiful young
women. If they met you they would greet you modestly and say something
like "God bless you!" to make you think they were good and kind and
then, once they had you in their power, they would put you to sleep
and gouge out your eyes! Oh, yes, Yanechek knew about the Yezinkas.
"Never fear, grandfather, the Yezinkas won't get me!"
The first day and the second day Yanechek kept the goats near home.
But the third day he said to himself: "I think I'll try the hill in
the woods. There's better grass there and I'm not afraid of the
Yezinkas."
Before he started out he cut three long slender switches from a
blackberry bramble, wound them into small coils, and hid them in the
crown of his hat. Then he drove the goats through the woods where
they nibbled at leaves and branches, beside a deep river where they
paused to drink, and up the grassy slopes of the hill.
There the goats scattered this way and that and Yanechek sat down on a
stone in the shade. He was hardly seated when he looked up and there
before him, dressed all in white, stood the most beautiful maiden in
the world. Her skin was red as roses and white as milk, her eyes were
black as sloe berries, and her hair, dark as the raven's wing, fell
about her shoulders in long waving tresses. She smiled and offered
Yanechek a big red apple.
"God bless you, shepherd boy," she said. "Here's something for you
that grew in my own garden."
But Yanechek knew that she must be a Yezinka and that, if he ate the
apple, he would fall asleep and then she would gouge out his eyes. So
he said, politely: "No, thank you, beautiful maiden. My master has a
tree in his garden with apples that are bigger than yours and I have
eaten as many as I want."
When the maiden saw that Yanechek was not to be coaxed, she
disappeared.
Presently a second maiden came, more beautiful, if possible, than the
first. In her hand she carried a lovely red rose.
"God bless you, shepherd boy," she said. "Isn't this a lovely rose? I
picked it myself from the hedge. How fragrant it is! Will you smell
it?"
She offered him the rose but Yanechek refused it.
"No, thank you, beautiful maiden. My master's garden is full of roses
much sweeter than yours and I smell roses all the time."
At that the second maiden shrugged her shoulders and disappeared.
Presently a third one came, the youngest and most beautiful of them
all. In her hand she carried a golden comb.
"God bless you, shepherd boy."
"Good day to you, beautiful maiden."
She smiled at Yanechek and said: "Truly you are a handsome lad, but
you would be handsomer still if your hair were nicely combed. Come,
let me comb it for you."
Yanechek said nothing but he took off his hat without letting the
maiden see what was hidden in its crown. She came up close to him and
then, just as she was about to comb his hair, he whipped out one of
the long blackberry switches and struck her over the hands. She
screamed and tried to escape but she could not because it is the fate
of a Yezinka not to be able to move if ever a human being strikes her
over the hands with a switch of bramble.
So Yanechek took her two hands and bound them together with the long
thorny switch while she wept and struggled.
"Help, sisters! Help!" she cried.
At that the two other Yezinkas came running and when they saw what had
happened they, too, began to weep and to beg Yanechek to unbind their
sister's hands and let her go.
But Yanechek only laughed and said: "No. You unbind them."
"But, Yanechek, how can we? Our hands are soft and the thorns will
prick us."
However, when they saw that Yanechek was not to be moved, they went to
their sister and tried to help her. Whereupon Yanechek whipped out the
other two blackberry switches and struck them also on their soft
pretty hands, first one and then the other. After that they, too,
could not move and it was easy enough to bind them and make them
prisoners.
"Now I've got the three of you, you wicked Yezinkas!" Yanechek said.
"It was you who gouged out my poor old master's eyes, you know it
was! And you shall not escape until you do as I ask."
He left them there and ran home to his master to whom he said: "Come,
grandfather, for I have found a means of restoring your eyes!"
He took the old man by the hand and led him through the woods, along
the bank of the river, and up the grassy hillside where the three
Yezinkas were still struggling and weeping.
Then he said to the first of them: "Tell me now where my master's eyes
are. If you don't tell me, I'll throw you into the river."
The first Yezinka pretended she didn't know. So Yanechek lifted her up
and started down the hill toward the river.
That frightened the maiden and she cried out: "Don't throw me into the
river, Yanechek, and I'll find you your master's eyes, I promise you I
will!"
So Yanechek put her down and she led him to a cave in the hillside
where she and her wicked sisters had piled up a great heap of
eyes--all kinds of eyes they were: big eyes, little eyes, black eyes,
red eyes, blue eyes, green eyes--every kind of eye in the world that
you can think of.
She went to the heap and picked out two eyes which she said were the
right ones. But when the poor old man tried to look through them, he
cried out in fright:
"I see nothing but dark treetops with sleeping birds and flying bats!
These are not my eyes! They are owls' eyes! Take them out! Take them
out!"
When Yanechek saw how the first Yezinka had deceived him, without
another word he picked her up, threw her into the river, and that was
the end of her.
Then he said to the second sister: "Now you tell me where my master's
eyes are."
At first she, too, pretended she didn't know, but when Yanechek
threatened to throw her likewise into the river, she was glad enough
to lead him back to the cave and pick out two eyes that she said were
the right ones.
But when the poor old man tried to look through them, again he cried
out in fright: "I see nothing but tangled underbrush and snapping
teeth and hot red tongues! These are not my eyes! They are wolves'
eyes! Take them out! Take them out!"
When Yanechek saw how the second Yezinka had deceived him, without
another word he picked her up, and threw her also into the river, and
that was the end of her.
Then Yanechek said to the third sister: "Now you tell me where my
master's eyes are."
At first she, too, pretended she didn't know, but when Yanechek
threatened to throw her likewise into the river, she was glad enough
to lead him to the cave and pick out two eyes that she said were the
right ones.
But when the poor old man tried to look through them, again he cried
out in fright: "I see nothing but swirling waters and flashing fins!
These are not my eyes! They are fishes' eyes! Take them out! Take them
out!"
When Yanechek saw how the third Yezinka had deceived him, without
another word he was ready to serve her as he had served her sisters.
But she begged him not to drown her and she said:
"Let me try again, Yanechek, and I'll find you the right eyes, I
promise you I will!"
So Yanechek let her try again and from the very bottom of the heap she
picked out two more eyes that she swore were the right ones.
When the old man looked through them, he clapped his hands and said:
"These are my own eyes, praise God! Now I can see as well as ever!"
After that the old man and Yanechek lived on happily together.
Yanechek pastured the goats and the old man made cheeses at home and
they ate them together. And you may be sure that the third Yezinka
never showed herself again on that hill!
RATTLE-RATTLE-RATTLE AND CHINK-CHINK-CHINK
THE STORY OF LONG BEARD, THE DWARF, AND THE TWO SISTERS
[Illustration: {A cottage}]
RATTLE-RATTLE-RATTLE AND CHINK-CHINK-CHINK
There was once a poor man whose wife died leaving him a daughter. The
little girl's name was Lenka. She was a good little girl, cheerful and
obedient and very industrious, and she did all she could to make her
father comfortable.
After some time the man married again. His second wife also had a
little girl just Lenka's age. Her name was Dorla. Dorla was a lazy,
ill-natured child, always quarreling and bickering. Yet her mother
thought Dorla was perfect and she was always praising her to her
husband.
"See what a good child my Dorla is," she would say to him. "She works
and spins and never says a cross word. Very different from your
good-for-nothing Lenka who always breaks everything she touches and
does nothing in return for all the good food she eats!"
She never stopped nagging and scolding her poor stepchild and
complaining about her to her husband. Lenka was patient and went on
quietly doing what was right, and she was always polite to her
stepmother, and kind to her ill-natured stepsister.
She and Dorla used to go to spinning bees together. Dorla would play
and waste her time and hardly fill one spindle. Lenka always worked
industriously and usually filled two or three spools. Yet, when the
two girls got home, the mother always took Dorla's half-filled spindle
and said to the father: "See what beautiful yarn my Dorla spins!" She
would hide Lenka's spools and say: "Your Lenka did nothing but play
and waste her time!"
And before other people she talked the same way, pretending Dorla did
everything that she didn't do and saying that good industrious Lenka
was lazy and good-for-nothing.
One night when the two girls were walking home together from a
spinning bee, they came to a ditch in the road. Dorla jumped quickly
across and then reached back her hand and said:
"My dear sister, let me hold your spindle. You may fall and hurt
yourself."
Poor Lenka, suspecting nothing unkind, handed Dorla her full spindle.
Dorla took it and ran home and then boasted to her mother and her
stepfather how much she had spun.
"Lenka," she said, "has no yarn at all. She did nothing but play and
waste her time."
"You see," said the woman to her husband. "This is what I'm always
telling you but you never believe me. That Lenka of yours is a lazy,
good-for-nothing girl who expects me and my poor daughter to do all
the work. I'm not going to stand her in the house any longer. Tomorrow
morning out she goes to make her own way in the world. Then perhaps
she'll understand what a good home she's had with me!"
The poor man tried to defend Lenka but his wife would hear nothing.
Lenka must go and that was all there was to it.
Early the next morning while it was still dark the woman started Lenka
off. She gave her a sack that she said was full of good meal and
smoked meat and bread. But instead of meal she put in ashes, instead
of smoked meat straw, and instead of bread stones.
"Here is meal and smoked meat and bread for your journey," she said.
"You will be a long time finding any one who will be as good to you as
I have been! Now be off with you and never let me see you again! Let
your father put you out in service if he can!"
The poor man put his ax on his shoulder and started off with Lenka. He
had no place to take her and he hardly knew what to do. He led her off
into the mountains, where he built her a little two-room hut. He was
ashamed to tell her that he was going to leave her alone, so he said
to her:
"You stay here, my dear child, while I go farther into the forest and
cut you some firewood."
But instead of cutting her firewood, he hung his mallet on a beech
tree and whenever the wind blew, the mallet made a knocking sound. All
afternoon poor little Lenka hearing the knock-knock of the mallet
thought to herself: "There is my dear father chopping wood for me!"
When evening came and he hadn't returned, Lenka went out to find him,
but all she could find was the mallet going knock-knock on the tree.
Then the poor girl realized that her father had deceived her but she
forgave him, for she knew that it was her stepmother's fault.
She went back to the little hut to get her supper, but when she opened
the sack her stepmother had given her, instead of meal and smoked meat
and bread, she found only ashes and straw and stones. Then indeed did
Lenka feel deserted and sitting down she cried with loneliness and
hunger.
While she was crying an old beggar with a long beard came into the
hut.
"God grant you happiness, my child," he said.
"May He grant you the same, old father," Lenka said, standing up and
bowing politely.
"Thank you, my child, thank you. And now will you be so kind as to
wash my face and give me a bite of supper?"
"Indeed, old father, I'd gladly wash your face and give you food, but
there's no water here and nothing to carry it in. And as for food, my
stepmother filled the sack with ashes, straw, and stones."
"That's nothing, my child. Just go behind the hut and you will find a
spring."
Lenka went and there, sure enough, was a clear bubbling spring and on
the ground beside it a bucket. She filled the bucket and carried it
back to the hut.
As she entered the door she could hardly believe her eyes, for on the
wall she saw a row of shining plates, big plates and little plates,
and cups, and everything else that ought to be in a kitchen. The old
beggar had started a fire, so Lenka at once put on water to boil.
"Look in the sack," the beggar said.
Lenka untied the sack again and here it was full of fine meal and
bread and smoked meat!
So now Lenka lost no time in preparing a good supper. Then she washed
the old beggar's face and hands and together they ate. After supper
Lenka spread out her ragged clothes on the floor of the inner room and
put the beggar in there for the night. She herself stretched out on
the kitchen bench. It was a hard bed but Lenka made no complaint and
presently she fell asleep.
At midnight there was a knocking at the door and a voice called out:
"_A man am I
Six inches high,
But a long, long beard
Hangs from my chin.
Open the door
And let me in!_"
Lenka jumped down and opened the door and there before her stood a
tiny dwarf with a long beard. He was Long Beard who lived in the
mountains and of whom Lenka had often heard stories.
He came in dragging after him a heavy bag of golden ducats.
"I was that old beggar," he said, "whose face you washed and with whom
you shared your supper. These ducats are to reward you for your
kindness. Now go into your bedroom and lie down comfortably."
As he said this he vanished.
Lenka went into her bedroom and there, instead of her few rags on the
floor, was a fine feather bed and coverlets and a painted chest full
of clothes. Lenka lay down on the feather bed and instantly fell
asleep.
On the third day her father came, supposing by that time Lenka had
either died of hunger or been devoured by wild beasts. At least, he
thought, he would gather together her bones.
But when he reached the hut he rubbed his eyes in surprise. Instead of
the rough hut, there was a pretty little cottage and instead of a
handful of bones there was a happy girl singing away at her spinning.
"My daughter, my daughter!" he cried. "How are you?"
"Very well, dear father. You couldn't have found a better place for
me."
She told him how happy she was and how pleasantly she passed the
time, spinning and singing and working. Then she took a table-cloth
and filled it with golden ducats and gave it to him.
So he went away very happy, thanking God for the good fortune that had
come to Lenka.
As he neared home, the old dog that lay at the door said to the
stepmother:
"Bow-wow, mistress, here comes the master. It's chink-chink the money
before him and chink-chink the money behind him!"
"Not so, old dog!" the stepmother cried. "It's rattle-rattle bones
before him and rattle-rattle bones behind him!"
Now when the man came into the cottage, he said: "Wife, give me a
basket and let me empty this table-cloth."
"What!" she cried. "Do you expect me to give you a basket for your
daughter's bones?"
But he began to chink the golden ducats and then she got a basket fast
enough.
When she had all the ducats safely put away she said:
"Isn't it just like you to find a place like that for your Lenka! But
what have you ever done for my poor Dorla? Tomorrow you will take her
out into the world and find a good place for her!"
So she got ready for Dorla a fine new bed and stylish clothes and as
much good food as she could carry. The next day the man took Dorla out
into the mountains and built her a little hut of two rooms.
Dorla sat in the hut and thought about the good supper she was going
to cook for herself.
In the evening the same old beggar came and said to her:
"May God grant you happiness, my child. Won't you please wash my
face?"
"Wash your face, indeed!" cried Dorla in a rage. "This is what I'll do
to you!" And she took a stick and drove the old beggar away.
"Very well!" he muttered. "Very well! Very well!"
Then Dorla cooked herself a fine supper. After she had eaten every
bite of it herself, she lay down on the bed and went soundly to sleep.
At midnight Long Beard knocked at the door and called out:
"_A man am I
Six inches high,
But a long, long beard
Hangs from my chin.
Open the door
And let me in!_"
Then Dorla was very frightened and she hid in the corner. Long Beard
broke open the door and he caught Dorla and he shook her out of her
skin. It served her right, too, for she was a wicked, spiteful girl
and she had never been kind to anybody in her life.
Long Beard left her bones in a heap on the floor, and he hung her skin
on the nail at the back of the door. Then he put her grinning skull in
the window.
On the third day Dorla's mother gave her husband a brand new
table-cloth and said:
"Go now and see how my Dorla is getting on. Here is a table-cloth for
the ducats."
So the man took the table-cloth and went to the mountains. As he came
near the hut, he saw something in the window that looked like grinning
teeth. He said to himself:
"Dorla must be very happy to be smiling at me from this distance."
But when he reached the hut all he found of Dorla was a heap of bones
on the floor, the skin hanging on the nail behind the door, and the
skull grinning in the window.
Without a word he gathered the bones into the table-cloth and started
back.
As he neared home the old dog said:
"Bow-wow, mistress, here comes the master and it's rattle-rattle
before him and rattle-rattle behind him."
"Not so, old dog!" cried the woman. "It's chink-chink before him, and
chink-chink behind him!"
But the old dog kept on barking and saying:
"No, no, bow-wow, it's rattle-rattle before him and rattle-rattle
behind him!"
In a rage the woman took a stick and beat the dog.
Then the man stepped into the cottage and at once his wife brought out
a basket for the ducats. But when he shook out the table-cloth there
was only the rattle-rattle of bones.
THE BIRD WITH THE GOLDEN GIZZARD
THE STORY OF TWO BROTHERS
[Illustration: {Three wading birds}]
THE BIRD WITH THE GOLDEN GIZZARD
There was once a poor man who had a large family. He was so poor that
he had nothing to feed the children. For three days they had had no
food. On the third day as the father was out cutting osiers he saw,
sitting in a bush, a small bird that shone like gold.
"If I could snare that bird," he thought to himself, "and take it
home, the children would be amused and perhaps forget they were
hungry."
So he caught the bird and carried it home and, sure enough, the
children were so delighted that for two days they didn't cry for food.