"Grow a little bigger, and it won't be so hard to see you down there.
Till then it will be better for you to keep a civil tongue in your
head."
The little man was angry before, but now he was angrier.
"What?" he screamed. "I am little, am I? Well, see what little does!"
And with that he grabbed an old crust of bread, leapt on Evening's
shoulders, and began beating him over the head. Yes, and the little
fellow was so strong he beat Evening till he was half dead, and was
blind in one eye and could not see out of the other. Then, when he was
tired, he threw Evening under the bench, took the sheep out of the
cauldron, gobbled it up in a few mouthfuls, and, when he had done,
went off again into the forest.
[Footnote 4: The little man was really one arshin high, and his beard
was seven arshins long. An arshin is 0.77 of a yard, so any one who
knows decimals can tell exactly how high the little man was and the
precise length of his beard.]
When Evening came to his senses again, he bound up his head with a
dishcloth, and lay on the ground and groaned.
Midnight and Sunrise rode back, on the black horse and the white, and
came to the hut, where they found their brother groaning on the
ground, unable to see out of his eyes, and with a dishcloth round his
head.
"What are you tied up like that for?" they asked; "and where is our
dinner?"
Evening was ashamed to tell them the truth--how he had been thumped
about with a crust of bread by a little fellow only a yard high. He
moaned and said,--
"O my brothers, I made a fire in the stove, and fell ill from the
great heat in this little hut. My head ached. All day I lay senseless,
and could neither boil nor roast. I thought my head would burst with
the heat, and my brains fly beyond the seventh world."
Next day Sunrise went hunting with Evening, whose head was still bound
up in a dishcloth, and hurting so sorely that he could hardly see.
Midnight stayed at home. It was his turn to see to the dinner. Sunrise
rode out on his cloud-white horse, and Evening on his dusky brown.
Midnight stood in the doorway of the hut, watched them disappear among
the green trees, and then set about getting the dinner.
He lit the fire, but was careful not to make it too hot. Then he went
into the yard, caught the very fattest of the sheep, killed it,
skinned it, cleaned it, cut it up, and set it on the stove. Then, when
all was ready, he lay down on the bench and rested himself.
But before he had lain there long there were a knocking, a stamping, a
rattling, a grumbling, and in came the little old man, one yard high,
with a beard seven yards long, and without wasting words the little
fellow leapt on the shoulders of the bogatir, and set to beating him
and thumping him, first on one side of his head and then on the other.
He gave him such a banging that he very nearly made an end of him
altogether. Then the little fellow ate up the whole of the sheep in a
few mouthfuls, and went off angrily into the forest, with his long
white beard flowing behind him.
Midnight tied up his head with a handkerchief, and lay down under the
bench, groaning and groaning, unable to put his head to the ground, or
even to lay it in the crook of his arm, it was so bruised by the
beating given it by the little old man.
In the evening the brothers rode back, and found Midnight groaning
under the bench, with his head bound up in a handkerchief.
Evening looked at him and said nothing. Perhaps he was thinking of his
own bruised head, which was still tied up in a dishcloth.
"What's the matter with you?" says Sunrise.
"There never was such another stove as this," says Midnight. "I'd no
sooner lit it than it seemed as if the whole hut were on fire. My
head nearly burst. It's aching now; and as for your dinner, why, I've
not been able to put a hand to anything all day."
Evening chuckled to himself, but Sunrise only said, "That's bad,
brother; but you shall go hunting to-morrow, and I'll stay at home,
and see what I can do with the stove."
And so on the third day the two elder brothers went hunting--Midnight
on his black horse, and Evening on his horse of dusky brown. Sunrise
stood in the doorway of the hut, and saw them disappear under the
green trees. The sun shone on his golden curls, and his blue eyes were
like the sky itself. There, never was such another bogatir as he.
He went into the hut and lit the stove. Then he went out into the
yard, chose the best sheep he could find, killed it, skinned it,
cleaned it, cut it up, and set it on the stove. He made everything
ready, and then lay down on the bench.
Before he had lain there very long he heard a stumping, a thumping, a
knocking, a rattling, a grumbling, a rumbling. Sunrise leaped up from
the bench and looked out through the window of the hut. There in the
yard was the little old man, one yard high, with a beard seven yards
long. He was carrying a whole haystack on his head and a great tub of
water in his arms. He came into the middle of the yard, and set down
his tub to water all the beasts. He set down the haystack and
scattered the hay about. All the cattle and the sheep came together to
eat and to drink, and the little man stood and counted them. He
counted the oxen, he counted the goats, and then he counted the sheep.
He counted them once, and his eyes began to flash. He counted them
twice, and he began to grind his teeth. He counted them a third time,
made sure that one was missing, and then he flew into a violent rage,
rushed across the yard and into the hut, and gave Sunrise a terrific
blow on the head.
Sunrise shook his head as if a fly had settled on it. Then he jumped
suddenly and caught the end of the long beard of the little old man,
and set to pulling him this way and that, round and round the hut, as
if his beard was a rope. Phew! how the little man roared.
Sunrise laughed, and tugged him this way and that, and mocked him,
crying out, "If you do not know the ford, it is better not to go into
the water," meaning that the little fellow had begun to beat him
without finding out who was the stronger.
The little old man, one yard high, with a beard seven yards long,
began to pray and to beg,--
"O man of power, O great and mighty bogatir, have mercy upon me. Do
not kill me. Leave me my soul to repent with."
Sunrise laughed, and dragged the little fellow out into the yard,
whirled him round at the end of his beard, and brought him to a great
oak trunk that lay on the ground. Then with a heavy iron wedge he
fixed the end of the little man's beard firmly in the oaken trunk,
and, leaving the little man howling and lamenting, went back to the
hut, set it in order again, saw that the sheep was cooking as it
should, and then lay down in peace to wait for the coming of his
brothers.
Evening and Midnight rode home, leapt from their horses, and came into
the hut to see how the little man had dealt with their brother. They
could hardly believe their eyes when they saw him alive and well,
without a bruise, lying comfortably on the bench.
He sat up and laughed in their faces.
"Well, brothers," says he, "come along with me into the yard, and I
think I can show you that headache of yours. It's a good deal stronger
than it is big, but for the time being you need not be afraid of it,
for it's fastened to an oak timber that all three of us together could
not lift."
He got up and went into the yard. Evening and Midnight followed him
with shamed faces. But when they came to the oaken timber the little
man was not there. Long ago he had torn himself free and run away into
the forest. But half his beard was left, wedged in the trunk, and
Sunrise pointed to that and said,--
"Tell me, brothers, was it the heat of the stove that gave you your
headaches? Or had this long beard something to do with it?"
The brothers grew red, and laughed, and told him the whole truth.
Meanwhile Sunrise had been looking at the end of the beard, the end of
the half beard that was left, and he saw that it had been torn out by
the roots, and that drops of blood from the little man's chin showed
the way he had gone.
Quickly the brothers went back to the hut and ate up the sheep. Then
they leapt on their horses, and rode off into the green forest,
following the drops of blood that had fallen from the little man's
chin. For three days they rode through the green forest, until at last
the red drops of the trail led them to a deep pit, a black hole in the
earth, hidden by thick bushes and going far down into the underworld.
Sunrise left his brothers to guard the hole, while he went off into
the forest and gathered bast, and twisted it, and made a strong rope,
and brought it to the mouth of the pit, and asked his brothers to
lower him down.
He made a loop in the rope. His brothers kissed him on both cheeks,
and he kissed them back. Then he sat in the loop, and Evening and
Midnight lowered him down into the darkness. Down and down he went,
swinging in the dark, till he came into a world under the world, with
a light that was neither that of the sun, nor of the moon, nor of the
stars. He stepped from the loop in the rope of twisted bast, and set
out walking through the underworld, going whither his eyes led him,
for he found no more drops of blood, nor any other traces of the
little old man.
He walked and walked, and came at last to a palace of copper, green
and ruddy in the strange light. He went into that palace, and there
came to meet him in the copper halls a maiden whose cheeks were redder
than the aloe and whiter than the snow. She was the youngest daughter
of the King, and the loveliest of the three princesses, who were the
loveliest in all the world. Sweetly she curtsied to Sunrise, as he
stood there with his golden hair and his eyes blue as the sky at
morning, and sweetly she asked him,--
"How have you come hither, my brave young man--of your own will or
against it?"
"Your father has sent to rescue you and your sisters."
She bade him sit at the table, and gave him food and brought him a
little flask of the water of strength.
"Strong you are," says she, "but not strong enough for what is before
you. Drink this, and your strength will be greater than it is; for you
will need all the strength you have and can win, if you are to rescue
us and live."
Sunrise looked in her sweet eyes, and drank the water of strength in a
single draught, and felt gigantic power forcing its way throughout his
body.
"Now," thought he, "let come what may."
Instantly a violent wind rushed through the copper palace, and the
Princess trembled.
"The snake that holds me here is coming," says she. "He is flying
hither on his strong wings."
She took the great hand of the bogatir in her little fingers, and drew
him to another room, and hid him there.
The copper palace rocked in the wind, and there flew into the great
hall a huge snake with three heads. The snake hissed loudly, and
called out in a whistling voice,--
"I smell the smell of a Russian soul. What visitor have you here?"
"How could any one come here?" said the Princess. "You have been
flying over Russia. There you smelt Russian souls, and the smell is
still in your nostrils, so that you think you smell them here."
"It is true," said the snake: "I have been flying over Russia. I have
flown far. Let me eat and drink, for I am both hungry and thirsty."
All this time Sunrise was watching from the other room.
The Princess brought meat and drink to the snake, and in the drink she
put a philtre of sleep.
The snake ate and drank, and began to feel sleepy. He coiled himself
up in rings, laid his three heads in the lap of the Princess, told her
to scratch them for him, and dropped into a deep sleep.
The Princess called Sunrise, and the bogatir rushed in, swung his
glittering sword three times round his golden head, and cut off all
three heads of the snake. It was like felling three oak trees at a
single blow. Then he made a great fire of wood, and threw upon it the
body of the snake, and, when it was burnt up, scattered the ashes over
the open country.
"And now fare you well," says Sunrise to the Princess; but she threw
her arms about his neck.
"Fare you well," says he. "I go to seek your sisters. As soon as I
have found them I will come back."
And at that she let him go.
He walked on further through the underworld, and came at last to a
palace of silver, gleaming in the strange light.
He went in there, and was met with sweet words and kindness by the
second of the three lovely princesses. In that palace he killed a
snake with six heads. The Princess begged him to stay; but he told her
he had yet to find her eldest sister. At that she wished him the help
of God, and he left her, and went on further.
He walked and walked, and came at last to a palace of gold, glittering
in the light of the underworld. All happened as in the other palaces.
The eldest of the three daughters of the King met him with courtesy
and kindness. And he killed a snake with twelve heads and freed the
Princess from her imprisonment. The Princess rejoiced, and thanked
Sunrise, and set about her packing to go home.
And this was the way of her packing. She went out into the broad
courtyard and waved a scarlet handkerchief, and instantly the whole
palace, golden and glittering, and the kingdom belonging to it, became
little, little, little, till it went into a little golden egg. The
Princess tied the egg in a corner of her handkerchief, and set out
with Sunrise to join her sisters and go home to her father.
Her sisters did their packing in the same way. The silver palace and
its kingdom were packed by the second sister into a little silver egg.
And when they came to the copper palace, the youngest of the three
lovely princesses clapped her hands and kissed Sunrise on both his
cheeks, and waved a scarlet handkerchief, and instantly the copper
palace and its kingdom were packed into a little copper egg, shining
ruddy and green.
And so Sunrise and the three daughters of the King came to the foot of
the deep hole down which he had come into the underworld. And there
was the rope hanging with the loop at its end. And they sat in the
loop, and Evening and Midnight pulled them up one by one, rejoicing
together. Then the three brothers took, each of them, a princess with
him on his horse, and they all rode together back to the old King,
telling talcs and singing songs as they went. The Princess from the
golden palace rode with Evening on his horse of dusky brown; the
Princess from the silver palace rode with Midnight on his horse as
black as charcoal; but the Princess from the copper palace, the
youngest of them all, rode with Sunrise on his horse, white as a
summer cloud. Merry was the journey through the green forest, and
gladly they rode over the open plain, till they came at last to the
palace of her father.
There was the old King, sitting melancholy alone, when the three
brothers with the princesses rode into the courtyard of the palace.
The old King was so glad that he laughed and cried at the same time,
and his tears ran down his beard.
"Ah me!" says the old King, "I am old, and you young men have brought
my daughters back from the very world under the world. Safer they will
be if they have you to guard them, even than they were in the palace I
had built for them underground. But I have only one kingdom and three
daughters."
"Do not trouble about that," laughed the three princesses, and they
all rode out together into the open country, and there the princesses
broke their eggs, one after the other, and there were the palaces of
silver, copper, and gold, with the kingdoms belonging to them, and the
cattle and the sheep and the goats. There was a kingdom for each of
the brothers. Then they made a great feast, and had three weddings all
together, and the old King sat with the mother of the three strong
men, and men of power, the noble bogatirs, Evening, Midnight, and
Sunrise, sitting at his side. Great was the feasting, loud were the
songs, and the King made Sunrise his heir, so that some day he would
wear his crown. But little did Sunrise think of that. He thought of
nothing but the youngest Princess. And little she thought of it, for
she had no eyes but for Sunrise. And merrily they lived together in
the copper palace. And happily they rode together on the horse that
was as white as clouds in summer.