and then at the shabby old woman who had given it. He stuffed the
ducat into his pocket, whispered hurriedly to the sexton to bring him
the font, and then christened the child of poor Lukas with as much
ceremony as the child of the richest townsman. The little girl
received the name Marishka.
After the christening the priest accompanied the godmother to the door
of the chapel and the sexton went even farther until he, too, received
the reward for which he was hoping.
When Lukas and the old woman came to the crossroads where they had
met, she handed him the child. Then she reached into her pocket, drew
out another golden ducat which she stuck into a fold of the child's
clothes, and said: "From this ducat with which I endow my godchild,
you will have enough to bring her up properly. She will always be a
joy and a comfort to you, and when she grows up she will make a happy
marriage. Now good-by."
She drew a green wand from her bosom and touched the earth. Instantly
a lovely rosebush appeared, covered with blooms. At the same moment
the old woman vanished.
In bewilderment Lukas looked this way and that but she was gone. He
was so surprised that he didn't know what had happened. I really think
he would be standing on that same spot to this day if little Marishka
had not begun to cry and by this reminded him of home.
His wife, meantime, was anxiously awaiting him. She, poor soul, was
suffering the pangs of hunger, thirst, and bodily pain. There wasn't a
mouthful of bread in the house, nor a cent of money.
As Lukas entered the room, he said: "Weep no more, dear wife. Here is
your little Marishka. But before you kiss the child, take out the
christening gift that you will find tucked away in her clothes. From
it you will know what an excellent godmother she has."
The wife reached into the clothes and pulled out not one ducat but a
whole handful of ducats!
"Oh!" she gasped and in her surprise she dropped the ducats and they
rolled about in the straw that littered the wretched floor.
"Husband! Husband! Who gave you so much money? Just look!"
"I have already looked and at first when I saw them I was more
surprised than you are. Now let me tell you where they come from."
So Lukas related to his wife all that had happened at the christening.
In conclusion he said: "When I saw the old woman was really gone, I
started home. On the way curiosity overcame me and I drew out the
christening present and instead of one ducat I found a handful. I can
tell you I was surprised but instead of letting them drop on the
ground I let them slip back into the baby's clothes. I said to myself:
'Let your wife also have the pleasure of pulling out those golden
horses.' And now, dear wife, leave off exclaiming. Give thanks to God
for that which he has bestowed upon us and help me gather up the
golden darlings, for we don't want any one coming in and spying on us
just now."
As they began picking them up, they had a new surprise. Wherever there
was one ducat, there they found ten! When they got them all together
they made a fine big heap.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" said the woman as she gazed at the pile. "Who
knows whether this money will be blessed to our use? Perhaps that old
woman was an evil spirit who just wants to buy our souls!"
Lukas looked at his wife reprovingly. "How can you be so foolish? Do
you suppose an evil spirit would have gone with me to church, allowed
herself to be sprinkled with holy water, yes, and even herself make
the sign of the cross! Never! I don't say that she is just an ordinary
human being, but I do say that she must be a good spirit whom God has
sent to us to help us. I'm sure we can keep this money with a clear
conscience. The first question is where to hide it so that no one can
find it. For the present I shall put it into the chest, but tomorrow
night I shall bury it under the pear tree. And one thing, wife, I warn
you: don't say anything about it to any one. I shall take one ducat
and go to the burgomaster's wife and ask her to change it. Then I
shall go buy some milk and eggs and bread and flour, and I'll bring
back a woman with me who will make us a fine supper. Tomorrow I'll go
to town and buy some clothes and feather beds. After that what else
shall I buy? Can you guess?"
"The best thing to do would be to buy back our old property--the
house, the fields, and the live stock, and then manage it more wisely
than before."
"You're right, wife, that's just what I'll do. And I will manage
prudently this time! I have learned my lesson, I can tell you, for
poverty is a good teacher."
When Lukas had hidden the money in the chest and turned the key, he
took one ducat and went out to make his purchases. While he was gone
his wife spent the time nursing the child and weaving happy dreams
that now, she was sure, would come to pass.
After a short hour the door opened and Lukas and a red-cheeked maid
entered. The maid carried a great pail of foaming milk. Lukas followed
her with a basket of eggs in one hand and on top of the eggs two big
round brown cakes, and in the other hand a load of feather beds tied
in a knot.
"God be with you!" said the maid, placing the milk pail on the bench.
"My mistress, the burgomaster's wife, greets you and sends you some
milk for pudding. If there is anything else you need you are to let
her know." The maid curtsied and went away before the poor woman could
express her thanks.
Lukas laughed and said: "You see, wife, what just one ducat did! If
they knew how many more we had they would carry us about in their
arms! The burgomaster's wife has sent us all these things. She is
lending us feather beds until tomorrow and she is going to send us an
old woman to help us out. I told her our child had received a handful
of ducats as a christening gift. If she comes here to see you, make up
your mind what you're going to say."
Then Lukas built a fire. Presently the old woman came and soon good
hot soup was ready. It was just plain milk soup, but I can tell you it
tasted better to hungry Lukas and his wife than the rich food which
the king himself ate that day from a golden platter.
The next day after breakfast Lukas set out for town. The
burgomaster's wife took advantage of his absence to visit his wife and
find out what she could about the money.
"My dear neighbor," she said, after she had made the necessary
inquiries about health, "the blessing of God came into your house with
that child."
"Oh," said the other, "if you mean the christening gift, it isn't so
very much. A handful of ducats soon roll away. However, may God repay
that good woman, the godmother. At least we can now buy back our old
farm and live like respectable people."
On the way home the burgomaster's wife stopped at the houses of her
various friends and gave them a full account of Lukas' wealth. Before
noon every small boy in the village knew that at Lukas' house they had
a hogshead of ducats.
In the evening Lukas came back from town driving a cart that was piled
high with furniture and clothing and feather beds and food. The next
day he bought back his old farm with the cattle and the implements.
This marked the beginning of a new life for Lukas. He set to work with
industry and put into practice all the lessons that poverty had taught
him.
He and his wife lived happily. Their greatest joy was Marishka, a
little girl so charming and so pretty that every one loved her on
sight.
"Dear neighbor," all the old women used to say to the child's mother,
"that girl of yours will never grow up. She's far too wise for her
years!"
But Marishka did very well. She grew up into a beautiful young woman
and one day a prince saw her, fell in love with her, and married her.
So the old godmother's prophecy that Marishka would make a happy
marriage was fulfilled.
THE GOLDEN DUCK
THE STORY OF PRINCE RADUZ AND THE FAITHFUL LUDMILA
[Illustration: {A duck}]
THE GOLDEN DUCK
Once upon a time there was a king who had four sons. One day the queen
said to him:
"It is time that one of our boys went out into the world to make his
fortune."
"I have been thinking that very same thing," the king said. "Let us
get ready Raduz, our youngest, and send him off with God's blessing."
Preparations were at once made and in a few days Raduz bid his parents
farewell and set forth.
He traveled many days and many nights over desert plains and through
dense forests until he came to a high mountain. Halfway up the
mountain he found a house.
"I'll stop here," he thought to himself, "and see if they'll take me
into service."
Now this house was occupied by three people: old Yezibaba, who was a
bad old witch; her husband, who was a wizard but not so bad as
Yezibaba; and their daughter, Ludmila, the sweetest, kindest girl
that two wicked parents ever had.
"Good day to you all," Raduz said, as he stepped into the house and
bowed.
"The same to you," old Yezibaba answered. "What brings you here?"
"I'm looking for work and I thought you might have something for me to
do."
"What can you do?" Yezibaba asked.
"I'll do anything you set me to. I'm trustworthy and industrious."
Yezibaba didn't want to take him, but the old man wanted him and in
the end Yezibaba with very ill grace consented to give him a trial.
He rested that night and early next morning presented himself to the
old witch and said:
"What work am I to do today, mistress?"
Yezibaba looked him over from head to foot. Then she took him to a
window and said: "What do you see out there?"
"I see a rocky hillside."
"Good. Go to that rocky hillside, cultivate it, plant it in trees that
will grow, blossom, and bear fruit tonight. Tomorrow morning bring me
the ripe fruit. Here is a wooden hoe with which to work."
"Alas," thought Raduz to himself, "did ever a man have such a task as
this? What can I do on that rocky hillside with a wooden hoe? How can
I finish my task in so short a time?"
He started to work but he hadn't struck three blows with the wooden
hoe before it broke. In despair he tossed it aside and sat down under
a beech tree.
In the meantime wicked old Yezibaba had cooked a disgusting mess of
toads which she told Ludmila to carry out to the serving man for his
dinner. Ludmila was sorry for the poor young man who had fallen into
her mother's clutches and she said to herself: "What has he done to
deserve such unkind treatment? I won't let him eat this nasty mess.
I'll share my own dinner with him."
She waited until her mother was out of the room, then she took
Yezibaba's magic wand and hid it under her apron. After that she
hurried out to Raduz, whom she found sitting under the beech tree with
his face in his hands.
"Don't be discouraged," she said to him. "It is true your mistress
cooked you a mess of toads for your dinner but, see, I have thrown
them away and have brought you my own dinner instead. As for your
task," she continued, "I will help you with that. Here is my mother's
magic wand. I have but to strike the rocky hillside and by tomorrow
the trees that my mother has ordered will spring up, blossom, and bear
fruit."
Ludmila did as she promised. She struck the ground with the magic wand
and instantly instead of the rocky hillside there appeared an orchard
with rows on rows of trees that blossomed and bore fruit as you
watched them.
Raduz looked from Ludmila to the orchard and couldn't find words with
which to express his surprise and gratitude. Then Ludmila spread out
her dinner and together they ate it, laughing merrily and talking.
Raduz would have kept Ludmila all the afternoon but she remembered
that Yezibaba was waiting for her and she hurried away.
The next morning Raduz presented Yezibaba a basket of ripe fruit. She
sniffed it suspiciously and then very grudgingly acknowledged that he
had accomplished his task.
"What am I to do today?" Raduz asked.
Yezibaba led him to a second window and asked him what he saw there.
"I see a rocky ravine covered with brambles," he said.
"Right. Go now and clear away the brambles, dig up the ravine, and
plant it in grape vines. Tomorrow morning bring me the ripe grapes.
Here is another wooden hoe with which to work."
Raduz took the hoe and set to work manfully. At the first blow the hoe
broke into three pieces.
"Alas," he thought, "what is going to happen to me now? Unless Ludmila
helps me again, I am lost."
At home Yezibaba was busy cooking a mess of serpents. When noonday
came she said to Ludmila: "Here, my child, is dinner for the serving
man. Take it out to him."
Ludmila took the nasty mess and, as on the day before, threw it away.
Then again hiding Yezibaba's wand under her apron, she went to Raduz,
carrying in her hands her own dinner.
Raduz saw her coming and at once his heart grew light and he thought
to himself how kind Ludmila was and how beautiful.
"I have been sitting here idle," he told her, "for at the first blow
my hoe broke. Unless you help me, I don't know what I shall do."
"Don't worry," Ludmila said. "It is true your mistress sent you a mess
of serpents for your dinner, but I threw them out and have brought you
my own dinner instead. And I've brought the magic wand, too, so it
will be easy enough to plant a vineyard that will produce ripe grapes
by tomorrow morning."
They ate together and after dinner Ludmila took the wand and struck
the earth. At once a vineyard appeared and, as they watched, the vines
blossomed and the blooms turned to grapes.
It was harder than before for Raduz to let Ludmila go, for he wanted
to keep on talking to her forever, but she remembered that Yezibaba
was waiting for her and she hurried away.
The next morning when Raduz presented a basket of ripe grapes, old
Yezibaba could scarcely believe her eyes. She sniffed the grapes
suspiciously and then very grudgingly acknowledged that he had
accomplished his second task.
"What am I to do today?" Raduz asked.
Yezibaba led him to a third window and told him to look out and tell
her what he saw.
"I see a great rocky cliff."
"Right," she said. "Go now to that cliff and grind me flour out of the
rocks and from the flour bake me bread. Tomorrow morning bring me the
fresh loaves. Today you shall have no tools of any kind. Go now and do
this task or suffer the consequences."
As Raduz started off, Yezibaba looked after him and shook her head
suspiciously.
"I don't understand this," she said to her husband. "He could never
have done these two tasks alone. Do you suppose Ludmila has been
helping him? I'll punish her if she has!"
"Shame on you," the old man said, "to talk so of your own daughter!
Ludmila is a good girl and has always been loyal and obedient."
"I hope so," Yezibaba said, "but just the same I think I myself will
carry him out his dinner today."
"Nonsense, old woman! You'll do no such thing! You're always smelling
a rat somewhere! Let the boy alone and don't go nagging at Ludmila
either!"
So Yezibaba said no more. This time she cooked a mess of lizards for
Raduz' dinner.
"Here, Ludmila," she said, "carry this out to the young man. But see
that you don't talk to him. And hurry back."
Poor Raduz had been pounding stones one on another as well as he
could, but he hadn't been able to grind any of them into flour. As
noonday approached he kept looking up anxiously to see whether
beautiful Ludmila was again coming to help him.
"Here I am," she called while she was yet some distance away. "You
were to have lizard stew today but, see, I am bringing you my own
dinner!"
Then she told him what she had heard Yezibaba say to her father.
"Today she almost brought you your dinner herself, for she suspects
that I have been helping you. If she knew that I really had she would
kill you."
"Dear Ludmila," Raduz said, "I know very well that without you I am
lost! How can I ever thank you for all you have done for me?"
Ludmila said she didn't want thanks. She was helping Raduz because she
was sorry for him and loved him.
Then she took Yezibaba's wand and struck the rocky cliff. At once,
instead of the bare rock, there were sacks of grain and a millstone
that worked merrily away grinding out fine flour. As you watched, the
flour was kneaded up into loaves and then, pop went the loaves into a
hot oven and soon the air was sweet with the smell of baking bread.
Raduz begged Ludmila to stay and talk to him, but she remembered that
the old witch was waiting for her and she hurried home.
The next morning Raduz carried the baked loaves to Yezibaba. She
sniffed at them suspiciously and then her wicked heart nearly cracked
with bitterness to think that Raduz had accomplished his third task.
But she hid her disappointment and pretending to smile, she said:
"I see, my dear boy, that you have been able to do all the tasks that
I have set you. This is enough for the present. Today you may rest."
That night the old witch hatched the plot of boiling Raduz alive. She
had him fill a big cauldron with water and put it on the fire. Then
she said to her husband:
"Now, old man, I'm going to take a nap but when the water boils wake
me up."
As soon as Yezibaba was asleep Ludmila gave the old man strong wine
until he, too, fell asleep. Then she called Raduz and told him what
Yezibaba was planning to do.
"You must escape while you can," she said, "for if you are here
tomorrow you will surely be thrown into the boiling cauldron."
But Raduz had fallen too deeply in love with Ludmila to leave her and
now he declared that he would never go unless she went with him.
"Very well," Ludmila said, "I will go with you if you swear you will
never forget me."
"Forget you? How could I forget you," Raduz said, "when I wouldn't
give you up for the whole world!"
So Raduz took a solemn oath and they made ready to flee. Ludmila threw
down her kerchief in one corner of the house and Raduz' cap in
another. Then she took Yezibaba's wand and off they started.
The next morning when the old man awoke, he called out: "Hi, there,
boy! Are you still asleep?"
"No, I'm not asleep," answered Raduz' cap. "I'm just stretching."
Presently the old man called out again: "Here, boy, hand me my
clothes."
"In a minute," the cap answered. "Just wait till I put on my
slippers."
Then old Yezibaba awoke. "Ludmila!" she cried. "Get up, you lazy girl,
and hand me my skirt and bodice."
"In a minute! In a minute!" the kerchief answered.
"What's the matter?" Yezibaba scolded. "Why are you so long dressing?"
"Just one more minute!" the kerchief said.
But Yezibaba, who was an impatient old witch, sat up in bed and then
she could see that Ludmila's bed was empty. That threw her into a
fine rage and she called out to her husband:
"Now, old man, what have you got to say? As sure as I'm alive that
good-for-nothing boy is gone and that precious daughter of yours has
gone with him!"
"No, no," the old man said. "I don't think so."
Then they both got up and sure enough neither Raduz nor Ludmila was to
be found.
"What do you think now, you old booby!" Yezibaba shouted. "A mighty
good and loyal and obedient girl that daughter of yours is! But why do
you stand there all day? Mount the black steed and fly after them and
when you overtake them bring them back to me and I'll punish them
properly!"
In the meantime Raduz and Ludmila were fleeing as fast as they could.
Suddenly Ludmila said: "Oh, how my left cheek burns! I wonder what it
means? Look back, dear Raduz, and see if there is any one following
us."
Raduz turned and looked. "There's nothing following us," he said, "but
a black cloud in the sky."
"A black cloud? That's the old man on the black horse that rides on
the clouds. Quick! We must be ready for him!"
Ludmila struck the ground with Yezibaba's wand and changed it into a
field. She turned herself into the growing rye and made Raduz the
reaper who was cutting the rye. Then she instructed him how to answer
the old man with cunning.
The black cloud descended upon them with thunder and a shower of
hailstones that beat down the growing rye.
"Take care!" Raduz cried. "You're trampling my rye! Leave some of it
for me."
"Very well," the old man said, alighting from his steed, "I'll leave
some of it for you. But tell me, reaper, have you seen anything of two
young people passing this way?"
"Not a soul has passed while I've been reaping, but I do remember that
while I was planting this field two such people did pass."
The old man shook his head, mounted his steed, and flew home again on
the black cloud.
"Well, old wiseacre," said Yezibaba, "what brings you back so soon?"
"No use my going on," the old man said. "The only person I saw was a
reaper in a field of rye."
"You booby!" cried Yezibaba, "not to know that Raduz was the reaper
and Ludmila the rye! How they fooled you! And didn't you bring me back
just one stalk of rye? Go after them again and this time don't let
them fool you!"
In the meantime Raduz and Ludmila were hurrying on. Suddenly Ludmila
said:
"I wonder why my left cheek burns? Look back, dear Raduz, and see if
there is any one following us."
Raduz turned and looked. "There's nothing following us but a gray
cloud in the sky."
"A gray cloud? That's the old man on the gray horse that rides on the
clouds. But don't be afraid. Only have ready a cunning answer."
Ludmila struck her hat with the wand and changed it into a chapel.
Herself she changed into a fly that attracted a host of other flies.
She changed Raduz into a hermit. All the flies flew into the chapel
and Raduz began preaching to them.
Suddenly the gray cloud descended on the chapel with a flurry of snow
and such cold that the shingles of the roof crackled.
The old man alighted from the gray steed and entered the chapel.
"Hermit," he said to Raduz, "have you seen two travelers go by here, a
girl and a youth?"
"As long as I've been preaching here," Raduz said, "I've had only
flies for a congregation. But I do remember that while the chapel was
building two such people did go by. But now I must beg you, good sir,
to go out, for you are letting in so much cold that my congregation is
freezing."
At that the old man mounted his steed and flew back home on the gray
cloud.
Old Yezibaba was waiting for him. When she saw him coming she called
out:
"Again you bring no one, you good-for-nothing! Where did you leave
them this time?"
"Where did I leave them?" the old man said. "How could I leave them
when I didn't even see them? All I saw was a little chapel and a
hermit preaching to a congregation of flies. I almost froze the
congregation to death!"
"Oh, what a booby you are!" Yezibaba cried. "Raduz was the hermit and
Ludmila one of the flies! Why didn't you bring me just one shingle
from the roof of the chapel? I see I'll have to go after them myself!"
In a rage she mounted the third magic steed and flew off.
In the meantime Raduz and Ludmila were hurrying on. Suddenly Ludmila
said:
"I wonder why my left cheek burns? Look back, dear Raduz, again, and
see if there is any one following us."
Raduz turned and looked. "There's nothing following us but a red cloud
in the sky."
"A red cloud? That must be Yezibaba herself on the steed of fire. Now
indeed we must be careful. Up to this it has been easy enough but it
won't be easy to deceive her. Here we are beside a lake. I will change
myself into a golden duck and float on the water. Do you dive into the
water so that she can't burn you. When she alights and tries to catch
me, do you jump up and get the horse by the bridle. Don't be afraid at
what will happen."
The fiery cloud descended, burning up everything it touched. At the
edge of the water Yezibaba alighted from her steed and tried to catch
the golden duck. The duck fluttered on and on just out of her reach
and Yezibaba went farther and farther from her horse.
Then Raduz leaped out of the water and caught the horse by its bridle.
At once the duck rose on its wings and flew to Raduz and became again
Ludmila. Together they mounted the fiery steed and flew off over the
lake.
Yezibaba, helpless with rage and dismay, called after them a bitter
curse:
"If you, Raduz, are kissed by woman before you wed Ludmila, then will
you forget Ludmila! And you, ungrateful girl, if once Raduz forgets
you then he shall not remember you again until seven long years have
come and gone!"
Raduz and Ludmila rode on and on until they neared Raduz' native city.
There they met a man of whom Raduz asked the news.
"News indeed!" the man said. "The king and his three older sons are
dead. Only the queen is alive and she cries night and day for her
youngest son who went out into the world and has never been heard of
since. The whole city is in an uproar as to who shall be the new
king."
When Raduz heard this he said to Ludmila: "Do you, my dear Ludmila,
wait for me here outside the city while I go quickly to the palace and
let it be known that I am alive and am returned. It would not be
fitting to present you to my mother, the queen, in those ragged
clothes. As soon as I am made king I shall come for you, bringing you
a beautiful dress."