with rejoicing to the stable, chose the best horses, took what money
they could, and that same day rode away from their father's house at a
gallop, without even saying good-by to their brother Jalmir. How
strange was the feeling at the heart of the poor fellow when his nurse
told him of this! He turned from her in silence; but under the pillow
with which he covered his face he shed many tears. When it was growing
dark the nurse hurried out of his chamber to chat with the servants.
She began with the cook, and they talked till midnight was near before
she knew it.

Meanwhile Jalmir was lying on his bed sadder than ever. This time he
was not thinking of his bodily pain, but of his brothers who had left
him without saying farewell; this troubled him most. He thought,
"Shall I ever be well?" and some internal voice said that he would.
Filled with hope he fell into a doze, and saw himself hunting on
horseback, and hurling a spear at wild beasts as his brothers had
done. All at once, and near midnight, a venerable man, with snow-white
beard reaching to his waist, stood before the bed, and said: "Jalmir
art thou sleeping?"

Jalmir started, opened his eyes, but saw no one. "That was a dream,"
thought he. He meditated a while, and again closed his eyes. After a
short time the old man stood before him again, and asked: "Jalmir art
thou sleeping?" Jalmir opened his eyes quickly, but saw no one. "That
was only a dream then," said he to himself, and again closed his eyes.
But soon the old man stood before him and inquired a third time:
"Jalmir art thou sleeping?"

"I am not," said Jalmir, and rubbing his eyes, saw the old man at his
bed.

"Rise in the morning," said the old man, "provide thyself with
everything for the road, and go through the southern gate. Outside the
town thou wilt find under an old pear-tree a white horse; mount that
horse and ride after thy brothers." Then the old man vanished in a
twinkle.

Jalmir rubbed his eyes again, and looked around his chamber, but there
was no old man anywhere. "It was only a dream," thought he. Again he
lay down and slept soundly; but when he woke in the morning he felt so
well that he sprang from his bed, and jumped around the chamber from
gladness. His nurse returned at that moment; but when she saw that her
weakly charge was well, she ran to the king, and before she had
reached the door, cried: "Jalmir is well!"

The king went out, and asked in a sad voice: "Hast thou lost thy
senses?"

"He is really well," said the nurse with greater rejoicing; but the
king shook his head.

Meanwhile Jalmir recollected his supposed dream, and ascribed his
recovery to that majestic old man. "Since he has cured me, I must
obey him," said he to himself. He dressed quickly and went to the
king. When the king saw him he believed the nurse, and, thoroughly
happy, fell on the young man's neck; but he was astonished still more
when Jalmir said: "Now, father, let me go; I must follow my brothers."

"And thou wilt leave me?" complained the father.

"I must," answered Jalmir seriously, and he told his dream. The king
shook his head incredulously, and at first would not even hear of the
departure of his favorite son; but at last he consented with tears.
Jalmir made ready for the journey without delay.

The king gave him a carriage and four servants, he took money, and
departed straightway. Outside the town he dismissed the servants,
giving them the carriage and the horses, and walked on alone to the
pear-tree, where a splendid white steed was waiting, stamping the
ground impatiently. "Sit on me, quickly," said he with the voice of a
man, "or we shall be late."

Jalmir sprang to his back and they went on, not on the ground though,
but through the air. In a short time the white steed asked: "Dost thou
see thy brothers?"

"I do not see," answered Jalmir.

"But the hill on which they are?"

"Neither do I see that."

"Thou wilt soon see it," said the steed, and hastened his course.
"Dost thou see the hill now?" asked he after a time.

"I see," answered Jalmir, "and on it are six ants."

"Those are thy brothers," said the white steed. "But now listen; we
shall soon come up with them, but do not make thyself known. We shall
pass the night in an inn. Thy brothers will feast, but will not be
able to pay, for they lost all their money foolishly yesterday. Pay
for them; in the morning we shall go farther."

Jalmir promised to do this, and then the white steed came down to the
earth. Soon they overtook the brothers, who did not know Jalmir; and
indeed, how could they in that stately, fiery hero recognize their
weakly brother. Jalmir bowed to them courteously, and asked permission
to travel in their company.

"But where art thou going?" inquired one of the brothers.

"To see the world," answered Jalmir.

"We too," cried the others; "so thou must go with us."

Jalmir bowed to them, and in silence agreed with a nod. But his
brothers all gave him their hands, and soon began to tell him how
delightfully they had passed the previous day. Jalmir did not,
however, find much that was pleasant in it, and frowned.

"Art sorry that thou wert not there?" asked one of the brothers.
"Never mind, we can have such days yet without number."

With that they came to an inn. The innkeeper, seeing through the
window so many lords, ran out and took the horses. When he took the
white steed, Jalmir asked: "Hast thou a stable apart?"

"Yes; and such a one!" boasted the innkeeper.

"Then put my horse in it alone," said Jalmir, "for he is very
vicious."

Then he followed his brothers to a room where they were already seated
at a table, and calling with terrible uproar on the innkeeper for
wine. In a short time the innkeeper brought all that he had, and the
brothers drank, sang, shouted, and rioted till the inn trembled; but
Jalmir barely drank for one, because he was sick from the action of
his brothers. But how grieved was he when one of the brothers said:
"This is a different life from being at home with that grumbling
father and that sickly brother."

Gradually one after the other dropped under the table, overcome by
wine. When all were asleep Jalmir said to the innkeeper: "Be careful
that no harm comes to them; I will sleep a little too."

Then he was going to lie on a bench near the fire. "Do not," said the
innkeeper; "I have a bed ready for thee. Come with me."

Jalmir, after useless refusals, followed him at last; but before he
lay down he visited the white steed to see if he had plenty of oats
and water.

When the brothers woke in the morning they looked for Jalmir with a
great outcry: "It would have been a nice thing if he had run away
from us!" cried one to another. "Who would pay?--for I have no money."

Soon Jalmir came to the room and told them to travel farther; all was
settled.

"Thou art ours," said they. All embraced him,--'tis a wonder they did
not suffocate him. Escaping from the brothers, Jalmir went to his
horse. The brothers followed his example, and soon the inn was far
behind.

"Listen," said the white steed to Jalmir, when the brothers had gone
ahead. "In the evening we shall come to a castle, in which lives a
sorceress with her seven daughters; they will take your horses, and
lead you to a chamber. The sorceress will bring you wine after supper,
but drink not. What will take place later, thou wilt see."

"Why loiter so?" called one of the brothers suddenly to Jalmir.

"I am coming," answered he; and the white steed soon galloped so that
in a few moments he was ahead of the brothers.

"Slower or thou wilt leave us!" cried the brothers; and the white
steed waited for them of his own accord. Soon they entered a forest,
rode and rode, but there was no end to the forest; only in the evening
did they come out on a plain. In the middle of the plain was a
beautiful castle. "Oh, now we are in luck," said the brothers, and
they began to rejoice.

They galloped into the court of the castle, and were still more
rejoiced when seven princesses came forth to meet them. They sprang
from their horses in a moment to give a courteous salute; but how did
they wonder when the princesses took their horses by the bridles and
led them to the stable. Jalmir begged the youngest princess, who had
taken his steed, to put the horse in a stable apart, for he was very
vicious.

She did as he wished; he saw this, and only then did he go to the
supper chamber, where his brothers and the six princesses were already
sitting at a great table, covered with the daintiest dishes. He came
to them with the youngest princess, but ate very little, though she
urged him continually; but when the vile old woman who served them
brought wine and poured it to each one in a golden goblet, Jalmir
seized his goblet eagerly, but did not drink the wine. He poured it
out on one side.

By degrees the brothers began to doze; at last one after another they
fell asleep. Jalmir suspected that the old woman had drugged
them,--which was true,--and that she had no good thoughts regarding
them; therefore he feigned sleep so that in the hour of need he might
aid his brothers. Soon after the old woman came and put away each
brother with his partner on a couch, of which there were seven in the
adjoining chamber; then she went out, but returned straightway with a
great broom, and began to strike the brothers. First she struck the
eldest, but he moved not; when she had finished with the six she came
to Jalmir, and said to herself: "If six are asleep, so is the
seventh." She went out, but soon returned with sulphur in her hand,
and burned it under the nose of each brother. She began with the
eldest, and as not one of them moved, she said when she reached
Jalmir: "If six are asleep, so is the seventh."

She went out, but came back bringing pitch, which she burned on the
breast of each brother. She began with the eldest, and as none of them
sighed, she said when she reached Jalmir: "If six are asleep, so is
the seventh; now I may cut off their heads without fear."

Jalmir quivered; and when the old woman went out, he sprang quickly
from the couch, put each of his brothers in the place of a princess
and did the same with himself. The old woman returned with a sword,
but without a light, and cut off the heads of the seven princesses;
then she went out. Jalmir sprang up in a moment and tried to rouse his
brothers, but in vain. What anguish the poor fellow suffered; only
towards morning did the brothers wake and look in terror at the dead
bodies of the princesses. But Jalmir exclaimed in a voice of despair:
"Let us flee!" and rushed forth; the brothers followed him. In the
stable they untied their horses, and springing on them hurried in a
wild chase from the castle and across the broad plain.

The sorceress soon saw their flight, and pursued; but as they had
crossed the boundary of her castle lands she had power over them no
longer, and with work undone was forced to go home, where she cursed
herself above the dead bodies of her daughters. The brothers rode
without stopping, farther and farther, till at last the castle
disappeared from their sight; then they made the first halt to rest
and inquire of Jalmir what had been done to them. When they heard that
he had saved them from certain death, they fell upon his neck and
cried: "Tell us who thou art, since thou hast done so much for us."

"Who else but your brother Jalmir," answered he, almost swimming in
tears; and he pressed brother after brother to his breast. But how
astonished was he when he saw that they were much colder to him than
they had been when they knew him not! Still, they asked how he had
recovered, why he had ridden after them, and what their father was
doing. But gradually they grew silent and hung their heads. Beyond
doubt it was not to their liking that just the youngest of them was so
wise.

Jalmir also was silent, and his white steed dropped behind of his own
accord. When the brothers could not hear him, he said to his master:
"I told thee not to discover thyself, but thou didst not obey me. The
results thou canst lay to thyself. In a few days we shall come to a
mighty king; thou and thy brothers will enter his service. When in
need come to me for advice."

Jalmir stroked the white steed, and begged his forgiveness. From that
time the brothers were no longer joyous as before, and kept noticeably
aside from Jalmir. But since they had no money they wheedled him
greatly whenever they saw an inn, since he always paid for them. After
some days they came to a great city. Their first road, however, was to
the inn, where they ate moderately but drank beyond measure; and now
they began to do such senseless things that Jalmir went to his steed
as quickly as possible to get consolation.

When the brothers were alone the eldest said: "I have had favors
enough from that sickly brother; to-morrow we will go to the king of
this country and serve him. What do ye think?"

"We will all go with thee," cried the others; but suddenly they were
confused, for Jalmir had returned.

"Where are ye going?" inquired he. "I will go with you."

The brothers answered him sullenly, but Jalmir said he would go.
Towards evening, when the brothers had had a good sleep, they went to
the king, who made them men of his court without delay. Now they had a
good living, large pay, and almost nothing to do; but as an offset
they were still not at rest, for Jalmir was always a thorn in their
eyes, especially since the friendship of the king for him increased
every day.

Once when the brothers, from idleness, were examining the chambers of
the king's castle, they came to one in which were all kinds of books,
small and great, piled up to the ceiling. They fell to reading these
books with great eagerness.

"Brothers," cried one of them suddenly, "I read here that the king has
not a bird in his kingdom."

"Is this true?" exclaimed the others in wonder; "we have not noticed
it."

"But know ye," asked the eldest, "to what use we may put this?" All
shook their heads. "Listen," said he in a whisper; "we will tell the
king that Jalmir knows about birds, and to send him for them."

"And the king will do so at once," said the brother who had read of
the birds, "for here is written the great cost of the birds eaten on
the king's table in a year."

They stopped reading at once and went straight to the king, to whom
they told what they thought. "But, gracious king," said the eldest,
"thou must sharply insist, or Jalmir will excuse himself, saying that
he knows nothing of birds."

The king nodded graciously and sent for Jalmir. He came quickly, and
the king said: "As thou knowest well I have no birds in my kingdom,
therefore I command thee to bring them."

"I, gracious king," said Jalmir, in fright, "know nothing of birds."

"Whether thou knowest or knowest not," said the king, in sudden
anger, "thou'lt get birds." With that he waved his hand, and poor
Jalmir went out with drooping head. Whither can he go? Who can help
him in peril? He went straight to the white steed and complained.

"Grieve not," said the steed; "at dusk we will go for the birds."

Jalmir thanked the horse, and could hardly wait till evening. The
moment the sun had disappeared behind the woods he was ready for the
road; and when the first star had appeared in the sky he led out the
white steed, sprang on his back, and flew off like the wind. "But
where are we going?" inquired Jalmir of his steed on the way.

"To that sorceress in whose castle thou didst save thy brothers from
death," answered the horse.

"To that place!" cried Jalmir in fright.

"Have no fear," said the steed, comforting him; "only do to a hair
what I tell thee."

The good steed now increased his speed so that he went like an arrow,
and about an hour later he came to the ground at the castle of the
sorceress. Jalmir sprang from him, and the steed said: "When thou art
in the first chamber thou wilt see silver cages, and in them silver
birds; in the second chamber will be golden cages with golden birds;
in the third chamber diamond cages with diamond birds. Of all these
touch nothing, or such a blow will fall that the whole castle will
tremble, and the sorceress will seize thee to kill thee. But go to the
fourth chamber; there take a wooden cage in which is a mean-looking
bird, and hasten to me."

Jalmir entered the first chamber with courage, but cautiously, and
looking at nothing, went to the second chamber; there the glitter of
gold dazzled him somewhat. When he opened the door to the third
chamber he stood almost blind on the threshold; but quickly
recovering, he shaded his eyes, ran to the fourth chamber, and seizing
the cage with the bird in an instant, rushed out swift as an arrow. He
sprang on the horse, which rose with him through the air in a moment.
The sorceress burst out of the castle, and cursing fearfully because
she could not stop him, screamed: "But thou wilt come here again!"

When the white steed was beyond the boundary of the castle land, he
said to Jalmir: "Open the cage and let the bird fly."

"But shall I not bring it to the king?"

"Only do what I ask," said the steed, with such a stern voice that
Jalmir obeyed without thinking.

It was yet night when they reached home. Jalmir tied the horse in the
stable and went to his room to strengthen himself with sleep, but he
did not sleep long. The morning dawn had barely shown itself when in
the king's garden was heard such a loud and cheerful singing of birds
that all the people were soon on their feet, and earlier than any the
king. At the first moment he was so astonished that he asked whence
these wonderful creatures had come.

"Royal Grace," said one of the brothers, "thou didst send Jalmir for
them."

"True," said the king, as he bethought himself; "but where is Jalmir?"

A courtier soon brought him, and the king fell on his neck from very
joy. He was now really dear to the king; but for that reason was held
in more hatred by his brothers.

"How can we get rid of him?" asked the brothers when they were alone.

"Maybe we can read something else," said one of them.

"Very good," answered all, at once; and they hurried to the chamber in
which so many books were collected, and it was not long before one of
the brothers cried out: "The king has no beasts, and they cost him
more than the birds, since he uses many more of them in a year."

"Then let Jalmir go for them," said the sixth brother, smiling
maliciously; and they went straight to the king, to whom they told
their minds. The king nodded graciously; dismissed them, called Jalmir
and said: "I have no beasts in my kingdom; and since they cost me much
in a year, I command thee to get me beasts."

"I, gracious king," said Jalmir in wonder, "know of none."

"Thou knowest well," said the king in anger, "for thy brothers told
me."

"Did they?" said Jalmir in astonishment. "Well, I will try;" and he
went to his white steed, to whom he told everything.

"Be not down-hearted," said the steed, comforting him. "Come to me in
the evening; we will go for the beasts."

When it was dark the good steed was flying through the air. "But where
shall we go?" asked Jalmir.

"To the sorceress from whom we got the birds," answered the steed.

"But I am afraid that she will catch me," said Jalmir.

"Fear not," said the steed; "only do to a hair what I tell thee." When
he came to the ground in front of the castle, he said: "In the first
chamber thou wilt see a beast with silver hair, tied with silver
chains; in the second chamber a beast with golden hair and golden
chains; in the third, one with pearl hair and pearl chains. Touch not
any of these, or a blow will fall so that the whole castle will
tremble, and the sorceress will seize thee to kill thee. But go to the
fourth chamber; there seize an ugly dog that is tied with a ragged
rope, and hurry to me."

Somewhat timidly, but all the more carefully, did Jalmir pass the
first, second, and third chamber, shading his eyes with his hands so
the glitter of the silver, gold, and pearl might not blind him. When
he entered the fourth chamber he broke the rope, seized the dog in his
arms, rushed out, and swift as an arrow sprang on the horse, which
rose in the air. And it was high time; for scarcely had he sat on the
horse when the sorceress ran out after him. When she was unable to
stop him, she cursed fearfully, and screamed: "But thou wilt come here
again!"

When the steed had sprung over the boundary of the castle land, he
said: "Now let the dog go."

Jalmir obeyed at once, for he was sure the steed gave good counsel.
When they came home, dawn was already appearing; still Jalmir lay on
the bed, for he was greatly wearied. He did not sleep long, however;
for barely had the dawn come when there was a noise in the castle, in
the town, and outside the town, as if the earth were breaking. The
king sprang in wonder to the window. But how astonished was he! Right
in the garden he saw deer, stags, rabbits; on the trees squirrels; on
the ground under the trees mice; in short, such myriads of beasts that
his eyes danced. In the king's garden it was pleasant for the beasts;
but in the town and outside the town the people killed them, chased
wildly after them, and threw stones at them. This displeased the king;
and he issued an order that all beasts belonged to him, and that no
man should dare to injure them. Then he went to Jalmir, thanked him
cordially, and expressed his friendship with an ardent embrace.

The whole kingdom was pleased with the beasts, but Jalmir's brothers
were not pleased.

"What shall we do with him?" asked the eldest of the others. "Instead
of getting rid of him we have brought him into still greater favor
with the king."

"But let us go and read again."

"Yes, yes," said a third; and all hurried off to the well-known room.
They had read a long time when at last one cried out: "The king has no
wine, and of course wine costs him money."

"Then let Jalmir go for it," answered the eldest, quietly; "and he
must get luck from hell if he comes back."

They went straight to the king, and very insinuatingly they told him
that Jalmir might easily supply him with wine.

"Then he will do it;" and dismissing them graciously he had Jalmir
summoned, and told him his wish.

"Gracious king," answered Jalmir, "I know nothing of wine, but I will
go and see."

The king was somewhat angry, thinking surely that Jalmir was
unwilling, and thereupon said: "Thou wilt answer to me with thy head."
Jalmir, bowing in silence, went out to the steed.

"Fear not," said the steed; "in the evening we will go for the wine."
The moment it was dark the kind steed shot away with Jalmir through
the air.

"Where are we going this time?" asked Jalmir, a little frightened.

"To the sorceress from whom we got the birds and the beasts. But now
pull a hair from my tail, and one from my mane; from the first make a
rope three hundred yards long, from the other a net large enough to
contain thee."

Jalmir did in silence according to the steed's words; and to his
astonishment, before they came to the castle the rope and the net were
finished.

"Now attend to my words," said the steed when he had come to the
ground. "Tie one end of the rope to my foot and the other to the net,
take the net with thee and put it on the door of the cellar, to which
thou must go down on three hundred steps. In the cellar thou wilt see
vessels with silver and gold and diamond hoops; pay no heed to them,
or a blow will fall, and it will be ill with thee. Go to the farthest
part of the cellar. There thou wilt see in a niche a little vessel
with wooden hoops, take that quickly and hurry to me; but if thou art
not able to come, just spring into the net and I will help thee."

Jalmir did everything according to the words of the steed. It was as
clear as white day in the cellar from the silver, gold, and diamond
hoops, so that he soon saw the little vessel in the niche; but when
he caught it, it is a wonder that he did not fall under its weight.
With a mighty effort he carried it to the steps; but there he struck
his foot against a vessel, and such a blow fell that the castle
trembled from its foundation to the highest points of its tower.
Jalmir, however, did not grow weak; he sprang up like an arrow over
the three hundred steps and jumped into the net.

Meanwhile, the sorceress flew out of the castle and sprang at the
steed; but the steed got her down, and so thrashed her with his feet
that he did not leave a sound bone in her body. At the same time he
wound up the rope so nicely that in a little while he had drawn up the
net containing Jalmir. "Sit quickly on me," said he. Jalmir mounted in
a moment, keeping the vessel carefully in his arms. The steed rose in
the air and flew like lightning, because the sorceress who had picked
herself from the ground was chasing him. But soon they had the
boundary of the castle land behind them, so that they had no further
need to strain their powers.

When they reached home the steed was drooping wearily to the earth, so
that Jalmir had to support him in going to the stable. Jalmir was
barely able to go to his own room; but first, according to the command
of the steed, he left the cask of wine at the door of the king's
chamber, then he lay on his bed and was soon asleep.

When the king opened the door of his chamber in the morning he saw
the cask. "This must be wine," said the king, rejoicing; and taking
off the head, he tried it. "It's wine; it's wine!" rejoiced he; and
calling the people of the castle, he drank a health with them all.

"But what is this?" wondered they; "we have taken ten kegs of wine out
already, and still it comes."

"This must be an enchanted cask," said the king, and began to laugh.
Then he said in serious tones: "Little cask, I should like to have red
wine." He drew some. And what a wonder! the wine was red. "I want
yellow wine," said the king; and yellow wine flowed out.

"In real fact, it is an enchanted cask," said the king. "Oh, Jalmir,"
cried he in delight, "how can I reward thee!"

"I have only obeyed thy command, gracious king," answered Jalmir, who
had just entered the room.

"Yes, thou hast done all that I commanded, and much more," said the
king; "therefore I make thee my son, and proclaim thee viceroy."

All present broke out in tumultuous shouting, but Jalmir's brothers
were silent; they bit their lips and clinched their fists. The king,
altogether joyous and full of tenderness, from success and from wine,
arranged to have a seven day's celebration in honor of the new
viceroy. The people did not wait to have the order repeated, but began
that very day, especially since they had plenty of food, and the wine
which the enchanted cask gave them without stint. The new viceroy was
greeted everywhere with shouts, and won at once the love of the
people.

But his brothers were enraged all the more. Instead of going to the
festivities they went to the room where the books were, and read as
diligently as if they wished to become sages at once. This time,
however, they were not able to find anything for a great while; but at
last they read what they wanted.

"Now I have something for our darling viceroy!" cried one. "In the sea
is a golden castle, and in the castle a princess, the most beautiful
under the heavens. If our king would take her in marriage, he would
grow young and lengthen his life."

"Oh, that is splendid!" said all, rejoicing. "The king will surely
send him for the princess, and darling Jalmir will either be drowned
in the sea or run home to his father."

When the feasting was over the brothers went to the king, who was, as
it were, ill,--just the thing for them. "Gracious king," said the
eldest, insinuatingly, "we are always trying to prepare some pleasure
for thee."

"Indeed, I have need of it," said the king; "old age and disease are
pressing me more and more every day."

"We have just found a remedy for those two evils," said the brothers.

"But what is it,--tell me!" broke out the king, delighted. They told
him what they had read.

"Well, Jalmir must take the road this very day," cried the king; and
calling Jalmir he explained his wish. Jalmir agreed in silence, but
scarcely controlling his tears, hastened to his steed and fell on his
neck, weeping.

"What is the matter now?" asked the steed. Jalmir told him all.

"Do not lose courage," said the horse. "Go to the king, and ask him to
give thee three hundred loaves of bread, three hundred kegs of wine,
and three hundred beeves. Have all put into wagons, and then we will
go for the princess."

Jalmir went straightway to the king and asked for these. The king had
all provided quickly, and promised him mountains and valleys if he
would bring the princess. Jalmir took the road that very day, sitting
on his good white steed, which this time did not fly through the air,
but walked with slow step behind the wagons on which the loaves, the
wine, and the beeves were carried. And many times did day and night
change places before they came to the sea. Now they went along the
shore; the white steed, going ahead with Jalmir, showed the road to
the wagons.

Jalmir saw a great fish on the beach which was trying in vain to get
back to the water. "Help it," said the steed; and Jalmir, springing to
the ground, helped the fish.

The fish sank under the water, but soon came to the surface and said
to Jalmir: "Wait, I must reward thee. Take this whistle, and shouldst
thou need aught from me, blow."

Jalmir took the whistle from the fish's lips, gave thanks, and sat
again on his steed. After a time they heard as it were distant
thunder. "What is that?" asked he of the horse.

"We shall soon be at the end of our journey," said the steed; "those
are giants talking."

In a short time Jalmir saw three giants lying on the beach. When he
came up they rose, and now he saw their stature. When he looked in
their faces he had to bend back his head as if looking at the highest
tower.

"What is the good word?" roared one of them, so that Jalmir had to
cover his ears.

"I bring three hundred loaves of bread, three hundred kegs of wine,
and three hundred slaughtered oxen," answered he.

"That is good of thee," said the giants, nodding their heads with
satisfaction; and they rushed to the wagons in which the things were
placed. They built a fire, and stuck the oxen on great spits to roast;
then they went to the bread and wine, and soon had half inside
themselves. A great eagle settled down near by, and looked wistfully
at the beeves. Jalmir cut off a quarter and gave it to the eagle.

"Thank thee!" said the eagle. "I will help thee in time;" and she rose
in the air with the quarter.

The giants did not leave the oxen very long over the fire; and when
they had finished, they said to Jalmir: "Now tell us thy wish; well do
we know that ye little worms of the earth do nothing for nothing."

"I have no wish for myself," said Jalmir; "but my master has sent me
to bring the princess from the golden castle which stands out in the
sea."

"That one over there?" asked the other giant, pointing with his finger
to the sea.

Jalmir looked around and saw for the first time a magnificent castle,
which gleamed in the waves like the rising sun. "Yes," replied Jalmir.

"We will take thee to it," said the first giant; "but will the
princess go with thee?"

"I will ask her," said Jalmir; "but how will ye take me there?"

"Thou wilt soon see," said the giants; and they took pieces of a cliff
and hurled them into the sea. They went on breaking the cliff, and
sooner than Jalmir expected there was a long stretch of dam in the
sea. But the giants did not stop; they worked till the setting of the
sun, so that in the evening they had one third of the dam finished,
and on the third day it was possible to go with dry foot to the golden
castle.

Jalmir thanked the giants heartily, and the morning of the fourth day
he went to the princess. The castle was a wonder to look at; but he
scarcely noticed it. He entered, and how surprised was he when in the
first chamber he saw the princess. With downcast eyes he said: "My
king and master has sent me to beg thee in his name to share his
throne and crown."

"I will go," answered the princess, with a silvery voice; "but wilt
thou remain at his court?"

"I must," said Jalmir. "I am the viceroy."

"Let us go, then," said the princess.

She mounted a splendid crow-black horse, Jalmir his white steed, and
they galloped along the dam. On the way Jalmir took courage to look at
the princess more closely, and thought that the king would grow
younger, and lengthen his life, if the princess would marry him. At
the same time he felt a certain agreeable straitening of the heart. He
bent his head, and rode in silence at the side of the princess; and
the nearer he came to the castle of the king, the more did trouble
take hold of his heart. The more joyous, however, was the princess;
and her eyes rested on him with a certain special delight. They
arrived soon without great adventure.

The king went outside the town to meet them, and conducted them in
solemn procession to the castle. "Art thou willing, honored princess,
to become my spouse?" asked he of the princess when he had led her to
the chambers prepared for her.

"First I must have my golden castle," replied the princess.

The king was amazed; but he bethought himself soon, and turned to
Jalmir, gazing imploringly.

"I will go for it," said Jalmir, with decision, especially when the
princess nodded graciously and smiled at him.

"Go, my dear Jalmir," said the king, with a soft voice. "I will reward
thee in kings' fashion."

Jalmir went to the white steed for advice, and the steed said: "Tell
the king to give thee three hundred loaves of bread, three hundred
kegs of wine, and three hundred slaughtered oxen; then we will go for
the golden castle."

Jalmir told the king his wishes, and the king gave him all. Everything
was ready so soon that Jalmir was able to set out that very day. But
it was a tedious journey; the wagons went slowly, and after them
Jalmir still more slowly, and with drooping head,--why, he knew best
himself. When they came to the giants, Jalmir gave them the loaves,
the wine, and the meat, begging them urgently to bring the golden
castle to the princess.

"Ah, little worm of the earth!" said the giants, laughing, "dost thou
think that the castle is made of wood? but we will try," added they
after they had looked at the three hundred loaves, at the kegs and the
oxen.

They began eating, and when they had eaten heartily, they went to a
neighboring forest, where they pulled up three of the strongest trees;
and when they had played with them as men play with canes, they went
along the dam to the golden castle. After a short time they moved the
castle from its foundations, put it on the oak-trees, and then on to
their shoulders; and as if it were nothing they walked after Jalmir
without weariness till night, when they slept, and next morning went
farther. They worked in this way till they drew near the king's
castle; they did not go to it, however, but waited till night. Then
they put the golden castle in the garden, bade farewell to Jalmir, and
went home.

When the morning sun rose people shouted "Fire!" in the castle. All
ran to the garden to put it out; but the princess standing in her
window cried, "Be quiet! That is my golden castle."

Soon after the king hurried in, and opening his arms in delight,
wished to embrace the princess, calling out, "Now thou art mine!"

"Not yet," answered the princess. "What is my golden castle to me if I
have lost the key of it?"

The king was frightened; but soon he said, with clear face: "My dear
Jalmir will bring it to thee." He wanted to go for him; but Jalmir
came just then to the princess to tell her that he had brought the
castle. The king told his wish; and Jalmir, gaining pleasure and
strength from a gracious smile of the princess, departed. He took
counsel of his steed, who said: "The key is somewhere in the sea near
the dam." Jalmir mounted; they flew through the air, and were soon on
the island where the castle had been.

"But how shall I find the key in the sea?" sighed Jalmir.

"Thou hast the whistle from the fish helped by thee into the water."

"Yes," rejoiced Jalmir; and he blew on the whistle.

That moment the fish swam to the surface, and asked, "What dost thou
wish?"

"The princess has lost the key of her golden castle," answered Jalmir,
who was about to ask the fish to find it; but the fish had already
vanished to tell all fish to look for the key. Now there was life
under water,--such gleaming of fish flying hither and thither, up and
down! till at last after long swimming, one little fish brought the
key to the chief fish. The chief fish gave it to Jalmir; Jalmir gave
heartfelt thanks, and was soon flying through the air on his steed, so
that he was home before night. When he had given the key to the king
he went to his room and shut himself in. Why he did this he knew not
himself; but he felt that it would have been better for him had he
never seen that princess of the golden castle.

The king, perfectly happy, went with the key to the princess; he felt
sure this time that she would make no objection. All the greater was
his grief when she said: "I have the castle and the key to it; but
what would life be in the castle without the water of death, the water
of life, and the water of youth?"

"And where are they to be found?" asked the king.

"They are on my island," answered the princess so decidedly that the
king went away in silence to think whom he should send. He had pity on
Jalmir, and therefore he went to the brothers; but they spoke to him
so convincingly that the king asked Jalmir again to go and do that
last service for him. How could Jalmir refuse? Besides, what he had
done he had done for her for whom he would have jumped into fire if
need be. He went to his steed to ask aid once more, and for the last
time. The steed reproached him for lack of courage, and said: "Sit on
my back; we'll go straight for the water." Jalmir did so with joy, and
was soon going through the air to the island swifter than ever he had
travelled before. In a short time the horse came down on the sea-shore
and said: "Go to the island for the water of death, the water of life,
and the water of youth; but hurry, or the waves will wash down the dam
and thou wilt perish. I will eat grass here a while."

Jalmir went forward, but very slowly; for the image of the princess
rose continually before his eyes. Except her, the whole world was as
naught to him. He was perhaps half way on the dam when all at once the
sea rose and bore it away. Jalmir screamed in terror and disappeared
in the sea. The steed heard his screams, but did not run to help him,
and hanging his head, went with slow step; he knew well that he could
give no aid to Jalmir. Then came a terrible storm on the sea. The
steed thought that Jalmir had perished; he rose in the air and shot
away like a flash.

Not far from the dam--of which there was not a trace after the
storm--was an eagle's nest high on the cliff, and in it five little
eagles that stretched out their necks, without ceasing looking down
eagerly, and crying meanwhile. "What do ye want?" called the old
eagle, which sat near by on a cliff and looked down. But how quickly
did she fly to the beach when she saw a body there! She recognized it
at once; for though she was only a wild creature she remembered well
that Jalmir had done her a kindness by giving her the quarter of beef
for her young. She seized him now in her strong talons and bore him to
the island where the golden castle had been; she plunged him into a
spring, then placing him on the ground, sat near his side. Soon Jalmir
began to breathe,--at first with difficulty and slowly, then more
quickly and evenly, till at last he opened his eyes with a deep sigh.
"Why not let me sleep longer?--I slept so lightly! I dreamed so
sweetly!" said Jalmir, as if waking from slumber. When he looked
around more attentively he called out in amazement, "What has been
done to me?"

"Dost thou not know me?" asked the eagle, standing before him.

"I do not know thee," replied Jalmir, shaking his head.

"But I know thee well," cried the eagle. "Thou didst give me a
quarter of beef for my children. But what art thou looking for now?"

"The princess sent me to this island for the water of death, the water
of life, and the water of youth," answered Jalmir.

"Then take them," said the eagle, and brought him to the three
springs. Jalmir took three flasks from his bosom, and filled them with
the three waters.

"But how shall I leave here?"

"I would gladly bear thee wherever thou wishest, but I cannot, for I
have children; but I will go to my brother. He has no children." She
flew off in a flash, soon returning, and with her her brother.

"But where has my white steed gone?" asked Jalmir suddenly.

"I will soon tell thee," answered the eagle, and she rose in the sky
till she seemed to the eye of Jalmir as small as the point of a pine
leaf. She remained motionless a moment, then came down like a bolt and
said: "I saw thy steed under the old pear-tree which stands before the
southern gate of the great town."

"Bear me to that place then," said Jalmir, with a voice of entreaty.

The eagle's brother caught him in his strong talons, and was soon
flying with him high in the air; so high that Jalmir saw his native
place, but it was as small as an ant-hill. He went farther, it became
greater, till at last the eagle came to the earth and put Jalmir down
near the old pear-tree; then he parted with him, and soon vanished in
the air.

The white steed was standing behind the pear-tree, with drooping head,
and so gloomy that he did not notice his master.

"My very good steed!" cried Jalmir, and fell on his neck.

"Thou art alive and well?" asked the steed in amazement.

"Yes," answered Jalmir, and told him all that had happened.

"I am happy," said the steed; "but now sit quickly on me, we must go
to the princess or we shall be late."

"What is the matter?" asked Jalmir in fright.

"The king wants the wedding to-day," answered the steed.

"Then let us hurry," said Jalmir, and he sprang on the steed, opened
his arms toward the town, and cried: "Oh, my dear father!"

"Calm thyself," said the steed; "I know that thou wouldst embrace him;
but vain is thy wish, for he died long ago." The steed rose in the air
and flew so swiftly that his native place soon vanished from the
tearful eyes of Jalmir. On the road the steed said: "When thou art
king, judge justly, even if thy heart has to bleed."

Jalmir did not understand him; but when he came to the town and heard
how his brothers were laughing at their puny little Jalmir who had
perished somewhere, an evil feeling seized him. Mastering himself
however, he went to the princess to give her the three waters; and she
hastened to the king to whom she said: "My dear bridegroom, so that
our marriage be equal, thou must become young and beautiful as I am,
and therefore I will rub thee with the water of death so that thy old
age shall perish, then with the water of youth, and last with the
water of life."

The king consented with gladness, and the princess rubbed him with the
water of death; then he straightened himself on the couch so that the
princess herself was terrified. Seizing quickly the water of youth;
she rubbed him with it and the fresh color of youth shone on the face
of the old king. "But still he is not so beautiful as Jalmir," sighed
the princess, greatly grieved. With tearful eyes she reached for the
water of life, but instead of it took the water of death and rubbed
the king. Straightway the pallor of death spread over his face. The
princess fell in a faint at his side and remained in it till Jalmir
came by chance to the chamber, seized the water of life, and rubbed
with it quickly the princess and the king. The princess stood up at
once, but the king remained dead.

"Is there no help for him?" asked Jalmir with trembling voice.

"There is not," said the princess, shaking her head; "whoever is
rubbed twice with the water of death can never live again."

"But what shall I do now?" muttered Jalmir, closing his eyes.

"Thou art king," answered the princess, "but I--"

"Queen!" cried Jalmir eagerly, and sank at her feet saying, "Forgive
me, but I love thee more than myself."

The princess in place of an answer kissed him; and now they went to
announce to the people that the old king was dead.

The people, who had already assembled in the square for the wedding of
the king, were greatly distressed; but when the princess presented
Jalmir as the new king, and herself as his wife, they broke out into
mighty rejoicing, which had no end. But Jalmir's brothers were silent;
and when the new king with his bride retired, they reported that these
two had poisoned the old king. The people raised a tumult; but Jalmir
went out among them and asked the cause. Some were silent, and others
told him what his brothers had said. "Do ye believe this?" asked
Jalmir.

"We do not believe," was shouted from every side.

"Very well," answered Jalmir, "but that ye may believe me I will tell
how my brothers tried to kill me;" and he told them all.

"The wretches!" cried the people in a rage; and they caught all the
six brothers. Before Jalmir could stop them the people had fired a
stack of straw, and when it was blazing high they threw the six
brothers into the flames.

"Now ye are all in one pile," laughed the people, "because hitherto ye
were always setting fire."

Jalmir turned to the princess with tears in his eyes, but she soon
consoled him. After the funeral of the old king they celebrated their
betrothal; but when Jalmir, full of happiness, sat at the feast by the
side of his bride, all at once he remembered his steed, ran to him,
and fell on his neck thanking him as author of all his happiness.

"I have helped thee, do thou help me now," said the steed. "Lead me to
the garden." Jalmir did as he desired; then the steed said: "Cut off
my head."

"I cut off thy head!" cried Jalmir in fright.

"Wilt thou let me suffer one hundred years longer?" asked the steed in
a sad voice.

In place of an answer Jalmir drew his sword, and with one blow cut off
his friend's head. The head fell on the ground, but out of it flew a
white dove which rose toward the sky. Jalmir turned in sorrow to the
princess, but she soon drove the sadness away from his face. They
lived happily together, and because they had the water of life, they
lived so long that no one has memory of it.

MAGYAR MYTHS AND FOLK-TALES.

THE POOR MAN, AND THE KING OF THE CROWS.

There was once a very poor man, and he had two lean cows. The two cows
were to the poor man as their mother's breast to children; for not
only did they give milk and butter, for which he got a few coppers to
buy salt, but he tilled his patch of land with them.

Now, he was ploughing one day at the edge of the woods with the two
cows, when, from wherever it came, a six-horse coach stood before him,
and in it sat no other than the King of the Crows, who found this to
say to the poor man,--

"Listen, poor man; I will tell thee one thing, and two will come of
it. Sell me those lean cows; I'll give thee good money for them. I'll
pay double price. My army hasn't tasted a morsel for three days, and
the soldiers will die of hunger and thirst unless thou wilt save
them."

"If that's the case," said the poor man to the King of the Crows, "if
it be that thy Highness's army hasn't eaten anything for three days, I
don't mind the difficulty. I'll let thee have the cows, not for money;
let thy Highness return a cow for a cow."

"Very good, poor man, let it be as thou sayest. I will give thee a
cow for a cow; more than that, for two thou wilt get four cows. For
that purpose find me in my kingdom, for I am the King of the Crows.
Thou hast but to look in the north for the black castle; thou'lt be
sure to find it."

With that the King of the Crows vanished as if he had never been
there,--as if the earth had swallowed him. The poor man kept on
ploughing with the two lean cows, till, all at once, the army of the
King of the Crows appeared like a black cloud approaching through the
air, with mighty cawing, and seizing the two cows tore them bit from
bit. When they had finished, the dark legions with tumultuous cawing
moved on their way like a cloud. The poor man watched the direction in
which they flew so that he might know the way.

Now he strolled home in great sadness, took leave of his two handsome
sons and his dear wife, in the midst of bitter tears, and set out into
the world to find the black castle. He travelled and journeyed over
forty-nine kingdoms, beyond the Operentsia Sea and the glass
mountains, and beyond that, where the little short-tailed pig roots,
and beyond that, and still farther on, till he came to an ocean-great
sand-plain.

Nowhere for gold was a town, a village, or a cabin to be seen where he
might recline his head for a night's rest, or beg a morsel of bread or
a cup of water. Food had long since left his bag, and he might have
struck fire in the gourd[5] which hung at his side. What was he to do?
Where could he save his life? Here he must perish of hunger and thirst
in the midst of this ocean-great desert, and then at home let them
wait for him till the day of Judgment. Here the poor man's power of
walking decreased, and he floundered about like a dazed fish, like a
man struck on the head. While stumbling along he sees on a sudden a
shepherd's fire.

    [5] A pilgrim bottle made of a dried, long-necked gourd.

He moves towards the light, creeping on all fours. At last he arrives
there with great difficulty, and sees that three or four men are lying
around the fire, boiling kasha in a pot. He salutes them with, "God
give you a good evening."

"God receive thee, poor man; how is it that thou art journeying in
this strange land where even a bird does not go?"

"I am looking for the black castle in the north. Have ye heard nothing
of it in your world-beautiful lives?"

"How not? Of course we have. Are we not the shepherds of that king,
who rigorously and mercilessly enjoined that, if such and such a man,
who sold him the two lean cows for his army, should find us, to treat
him well with meat and drink, and then to show him the right road?
Maybe thou art the man!"

"I am indeed."

"Is it possible?"

"I am no one else."

"In that case sit here on the sheepskin; eat, drink, and enjoy
thyself, for the kasha will be ready this minute."

As they said, he did. The poor man sat by the fire, ate, drank, and
satisfied himself, then lay down and fell asleep. When he rose in the
morning they gave him a round cheese, and drove the air out of his
bottle; then they let him go his way, showing him the right road.

The poor man travelled and journeyed along the right road; and now,
when he was hungry and dry, he had his bag, and his bottle too.
Towards evening he sees again a shepherd's fire. He draws near the
great fire, and sees the shepherds of the King of the Crows sitting
around it cooking a meat stew. He wishes them, "God give you a
good-day, my lords, the horseherds."

"God guard thee, poor man," said the chief herdsman; "where art thou
going here in this strange land?"

"I am looking for the black castle of the King of the Crows. Hast thou
never heard of it, brother, in thy world-beautiful life?"

"How not heard of it? Of course I have. Are we not the servants of him
who commanded rigorously and unflinchingly that if such and such a
poor man, who sold him two lean cows for his army, should wander
along, to receive him kindly? Therefore, this is my word and speech to
thee. Art thou, perchance, that man?"

"Of course I am."

"Is it possible?"

"I'm no one else."

"In that case sit down here by the fire, drink, and be filled."

The poor man sat down by the fire, ate, drank, and satisfied himself;
then lying on the sheepskin, he fell asleep. When he rose in the
morning the horseherds entertained the poor man again, wished him
happiness, and showing the right road let him go his way; but they
left neither his bag nor his bottle empty. Then he went along the
right road. But why multiply words?--for there is an end even to a
hundred words; it is enough to know that towards evening he came to
the ground of the swineherds of the King of the Crows. He saluted them
with, "God give you a good evening."

"God guard thee," said the reckoning swineherd.[6] "How is it thou art
journeying in this strange land, where even a bird does not go?"

    [6] "The reckoning swineherd,"--he who counts the pigs.

"I am looking for the black castle of the King of the Crows. Has my
lord elder brother never heard of it in his world-beautiful life?"

"Haho, poor man! How not heard of it? Are we not the servants of the
lord of that castle? But art not thou the poor man who sold his
Highness the two lean cows?"

"Well, what's the use in delay or denial? I am, indeed, he."

"Art thou in truth?"

"I am no one else."

"But how wilt thou enter the black castle, since it is covered all
around with a stone wall, and whirls unceasingly on a golden cock's
foot? But make no account of that. Here is a shining axe. Just strike
the wall with it so that sparks will fly, and thou wilt come upon the
door, which will spring open. Then jump in. Have a care, though; for
if thou slip and fall, neither God nor man can save thee. When thou
art once inside, the King of the Crows will come forward and receive
thee kindly. He won't put his soul on the palm of his hand at once;
but when his Highness inquires what thy wish is, ask for nothing else
but the salt-mill which stands in the corner."

Well, the talk ended there. In the morning the poor man moves on
towards the black castle. When he arrives there, he saw that it
whirled of itself on a golden cock's foot, like some infernal spindle;
and nowhere can he see either window or door upon it,--nothing but the
naked wall. He took the swineherd's axe and struck the wall, and
sparks flew from the axe in such style that it couldn't be better.
After a time he came upon the door; it flew open, and he jumped in. If
he had delayed but one flash of an eye the stone wall door would have
crushed him; as it was, the edge of his trousers was carried off.

As soon as the poor man got in, he saw that the castle turned only on
the outside. At this moment the King of the Crows was standing by the
window, and saw the poor man coming for the price of the cows. He went
to meet him, shook his hand, treated him as tenderly as an egg; then
he led him into the most beautiful chamber, and seated him at his side
on a golden couch. The poor man saw not a soul anywhere, although it
was midday, the time of eating. All at once the table began to spread,
and was soon bending under its load, so much food was on it. The poor
man shook his head,--for, as I say, though no one was to be seen
anywhere, neither cook nor kitchen-boy nor servant, still, wasn't the
table spread? It was surely witchcraft, surely some infernal art, but
not the work of a good spirit,--maybe the salt-mill had something to
do with it. That, however, did not come into the poor man's mind,
though the mill stood there in the corner.

He was there three days, the guest of the King of the Crows, who
received him with every kindness he could offer, so that no man's son
could raise a complaint against his Highness. Morning, noon, and night
the poor man's food appeared in proper form, but the roast and the
wine had no taste for him; for it came to his mind that while he was
feasting there, most likely his wife and children had not bread
enough. I say it came to his mind; he began to be restless and uneasy.
The King of the Crows noticed this, and said to him: "Well, poor man,
I see that thou dost not wish to stay longer with me, because thy
heart is at home, therefore I ask what dost thou wish for the two lean
cows?--believe me, brother, thou didst save me from great trouble that
time; if thou hadst not taken pity on me I should have lost my whole
army from famine."

"I want nothing else," said the poor man, "but that salt-mill standing
there in the corner."

"Oh, poor man, hast thou lost thy wits? Tell me, what good couldst
thou get of the mill?"

"Oh, I could grind corn or a little wheat from time to time; if I did
not some one else might, so there would be something to take to the
kitchen."

"Ask for something else; ask for all the cattle which in coming hither
thou didst see."

"What should I do with such a tremendous lot of cattle? If I should
drive them home, people would think evil of me; besides, I have
neither stable nor pasture."

"But I'll give thee money. How much dost thou wish? Wouldst be content
with three bags of it?"

"What could I do with such an ocean-great lot of money? My evil fate
would use it to kill me; people would think that I stole the coin, or
murdered some man for it; besides, I might be stopped with it on the
road."

"But I'll give thee a soldier as a guard."

"What good is one of thy Highness's soldiers?" asked the poor man,
smiling; "a hen, I think, would drive him away."

"What! one of my soldiers?"

Here the King of the Crows blew a small whistle; straightway a crow
appeared which shook itself, and became such a gallant young fellow
that he was not only so, but just so. "That's the kind of soldiers I
have;" said the king and commanded the young man out of the room. The
soldier shook himself, became a crow, and flew away.

"It's all the same to me what kind of soldiers thy Highness has. Thy
Highness promised to give me what I want, and I ask for nothing else
but the salt-mill."

"I will not give it. Ask for all my herds, but not for that."

"I need not herds; all I want is the mill."

"Well, poor man, I have refused thee three times, and three times thou
hast asked for the mill; now, whether I will or not, I must give it.
But know that thou art not to grind corn or wheat with the mill; for
it has this virtue,--that it accomplishes all wishes. Here it is, take
it, though my heart bleeds after it. Thou didst me a good deed,
therefore let it be thine."

The poor man put the mill on his back, took farewell of the King of
the Crows, thanking him for his hospitality, and trudged home at his
leisure. On the way back he entertained the swineherds, the
horseherds, and the cowherds. All he did was to say, "Grind, my dear
mill," and what food was dear to the eye, the mouth, and the taste
appeared of itself; and if he said, "Draw up, my dear mill," all the
food was as if the ground had swallowed it,--it vanished. Then he took
leave of the good shepherds and continued his way.

As he travelled and journeyed, he came to a great wild wood; and
having grown hungry, he said: "Grind, my dear mill." Straightway the
table was spread, not for one, but for two persons. The mill knew at
once that the poor man would have a guest; for that moment, wherever
he came from, a great fat man appeared, who without saying a word,
took his seat at the table. When they had enjoyed God's blessing, the
great fat man spoke, and said:

"Listen, poor man. Give me that mill for this knotty club; for if thy
mill has the power of accomplishing all thy desires [the fat man knew
this already], my knotty club has this power, that thou hast need but
to say, 'Strike, my club,' and the man thou hast in mind is the son of
Death."

What was the poor man to do? Thinking if he did not give it of his
free will the fat man would take it by force, he exchanged the mill
for the knotty club; but when he had it once in his hand, he said in a
low voice, for he was commanding the knotty club, "Strike, my dear
club." And it so struck the fat man behind the ears that he gave
forth not a sound; he didn't move his little finger. Then the poor man
continued his journey homeward at his ease; and when seven years had
passed he was able to say: "Here we are!"

His wife who was weeping by the hearth, mourning over her dear lost
lord and the two lean cows, scarcely knew the poor man, but still she
knew him. His two sons had become large, and had grown out of their
long clothes. When the poor man put his foot in his own house he set
the mill down in the chimney-corner, loosed his mantle from his neck,
hung it up on a nail, and only then did they know him.

"Well, father," said his wife, "thou hast come; God knows 'tis time. I
never expected to see thee again; but what didst thou get for Bimbo
and Csako?"

"This mill," answered he with many "see here's" and "see there's."

"If that's the case, the palsy strike thy work," cried the woman;
"better for thee to have stayed at home these seven years, and swung
thy feet around here, than to have dragged that good-for-nothing mill
from such a distant land, just as if thou hadst eaten the crazy-weed!"

"Oh, my sweet wife, something is better than nothing; if we have no
grain to grind for ourselves, we can grind for other people, if not in
streams at least in drops."

"May a cancer eat thy mill! I haven't a thing to put between my
teeth, and still--"

"Well, my sweet wife, if thou hast nothing to put between thy teeth
thou'lt soon have. Grind, my dear mill."

At these words, so much meat and drink appeared on the poor man's
table that half of it would have been enough. It was only then that
the woman regretted her tongue rattling. But a woman is a woman; beat
her with a stone, only let her talk.

The poor man, his wife, and two sons sat down at the table, looking at
the food like an army of locusts. They ate and drank to their hearts'
content. Whether from wine or some other cause, a desire to dance came
to the two sons; and they jumped up and danced, so it was pure delight
to look at them. "Oh," said the elder one, "if we only had a gypsy!"
That moment a band of gypsies by the chimney struck up their music,
and played away with such variations that the poor man too wished to
dance, and so whirled his wife around that better could not be asked
for. The neighbors knew not what to think of the affair. How was it
that music was sounding in the poor man's house?

"What is this?" said they one to another, coming nearer and nearer,
till they came up to the door and the windows. Only then did they see
that a band of gypsies were fiddling away with might and main, and the
old man, his wife, and their two sons were dancing, while the table
was bending under loads of rich meat and drink.

"Come in cousin! come in friend! come in brother-in-law, bring thy
wife! come in brother!" and there was no end to the invitations of the
poor man. Guests collected unceasingly, and still the table was
spread. "'Pon my soul," said the poor man, "it's a pity my house isn't
larger; for all these guests could scarcely find room in a palace." At
these words, instead of the poor man's cabin such a magnificent palace
appeared, with chambers, twelve in a row, that the king himself hadn't
the like of it.

A multitude of grand people with the king in the midst of them were
out walking just at that time. "What's this? what's this?" asked they
of one another. "There has always been a poor man's cabin here, now
there's a king's palace, and besides, music is sounding, and gypsies
are fiddling. Let's go and have a look."

The king went in front, and after him all the grand people,--counts,
dukes, barons, and so on. The poor man came out and received the king
with the great personages very kindly, and conducted them all to the
head of the table as their fitting place. They ate, drank, and
caroused, so that it was like a small wedding.

While they were enjoying themselves at the best, a great sealed letter
came to the king. When he had read it, he turned yellow and blue,
because it was written therein that the Turk-Tartar was nearing his
kingdom with a great army, destroying everything with fire and sword,
and sparing not the property of innocent, weeping people, whom he puts
to the point of the sword; that the earth is drinking their blood;
their flesh is devoured by dogs.

From great joy there was great sorrow.

Then the poor man stood forth and asked the king: "If 'tis no offence,
may I ask a question?"

"What may it be, poor man?"

"Would thy Highness tell me the contents of that great letter received
just now?"

"Why ask, poor man? Thou couldst not mend the affair."

"But if I can?"

"Well, know then, and let the whole kingdom know, that the Turk-Tartar
is moving on our country with a great army, with cruel intent; that he
spares not the property of innocent, weeping people, puts them to the
sword, so that the earth drinks their blood, and their flesh is
devoured by dogs."

"And what will be the reward of him who drives the enemy out of the
country?" asked the poor man.

"In truth," said the king, "great reward and honor await him; for if
he should have two sons, I would give them my two daughters in
marriage, with half the kingdom. After my death they would inherit the
whole kingdom."

"Well, I'll drive out the enemy all alone."

But the king did not place much confidence in the poor man's promise;
he hurried together all his soldiers, and marched with them against
the enemy. The two armies were looking at each other with wolves'
eyes, when the poor man went between the camps and commanded the club:
"Strike, my dear club." And the club pommelled the Turk-Tartar army so
that only one man was left to carry home the tidings.

The poor man gained half the kingdom and the two beautiful princesses,
whom he married to his two stalwart sons. They celebrated a wedding
which spoke to the seven worlds; and they are living now if they are
not dead.

THE USELESS WAGONER.

There was once in the world a king, and he had a Useless Wagoner who
never and never did anything but frolic in the tavern. The whole
standing day and all the ocean-great night there was nothing for him
but singing and dancing, eating and drinking. The king had money of
course.

But the king began to grow tired of this thing. He called up the
Useless Wagoner, and gave him a terrible scolding. But 'tis vain to
seat a dog at table, and when the Devil gets into a man he stays
there; so it was labor lost to drive the Useless Wagoner to work, for
he went his way, and frolicked as before. At last the king resolved to
take his life, and calling him up, said,--

"Dost hear me, work-shunning Useless Wagoner! I revile thy mother, if
within the turn of four and twenty hours thou dost not make for me a
three-hundred-gallon cask; and though one joint or seam is not much,
if it has that, I'll empale thee on a stake."

The Useless Wagoner said not a word to all this, but put a hamper on
his back, took a cutting-axe in his hand, and strolled off to the
forest to find a tree fit to make a three-hundred-gallon cask.

When he came to the forest, being hungry and tired, he sat down under
a large shady tree, opened his hamper, and began to eat lunch. He ate
and ate, till all at once, from some corner or another, a little fox
stood before him and begged food to eat.

"Of course I'll give thee something. The food came here, 'twill stay
here;" and with that he threw a slice of bread and a bit of sausage to
the fox.

When the fox had finished eating she said: "Dost hear, Useless
Wagoner? As thou hast taken pity on me, I will take pity on thee; in
place of a good deed look for a good deed. Though thou hast not told
me, still I know why thou hast come to this forest. I know, too, that
the king is breaking his head to kill thee; but he'll not be in time,
for I will help thee out of thy trouble and make thee the
three-hundred-gallon cask. And though one seam or joint is not much,
even that will not be in it. Now lie down and rest."

And so it was. The Useless Wagoner lay down and rested. Meanwhile the
little fox got such a three-hundred-gallon cask ready, that although a
joint or seam is not much, even that was not to be seen in it.

When the cask was finished the Useless Wagoner took it home and gave
it to the king, who, after looking at it, dropped his eyes and his lip
like a sheep; for neither his father, his grandfather, nor his
great-grandfather had ever seen such a cunningly made cask, for not a
seam nor a joint could be seen in it for gold.

Well and good for the moment; but soon the king summoned the Useless
Wagoner to his presence again, and cried out,--

"Dost thou hear me, work-shunning Useless Wagoner! I revile thy soul
if within the turn of four and twenty hours thou dost not make for me
a chariot which will go itself, without horses. I'll break thee on a
wheel!"

The Useless Wagoner said nothing, but put his hamper on his back, took
his cutting-axe in his hand, and wandered off to the forest to find a
tree fit to make the chariot.

When he came to the forest he was hungry, and tired too; therefore he
sat down under a large, shady tree, opened his hamper, and began to
eat lunch.

He ate and ate till all at once, from some corner or another, the
little fox stood before him again, and begged food to eat.

"Of course, my dear little fox, I'll give thee something. It came
here, and 'twill stay here."

With that he threw a piece of bread and a slice of ham to the little
fox, who after she had eaten, said:

"Well, Useless Wagoner, in place of a good deed look for a good deed.
Though thou hast not told me, still I know why thou art here. I know,
too, that the king is breaking his head to kill thee; but he won't,
for I shall help thee out of trouble. I'll make for thee the chariot
which will go of itself, without horses; but do thou lie down and
rest."

And so it was. The Useless Wagoner reclined his head in rest; and
meanwhile the little fox fashioned a chariot beautifully. When all was
ready she roused the Useless Wagoner, and said,--

"Here is the chariot which runs of itself; thou hast but to step in
and command it to stop in the king's court-yard. But I would tell thee
this: Here is a whistle that will serve thee; shouldst thou fall into
trouble, just blow,--it will help thee."

The Useless Wagoner thanked the fox for her kindness, and entered the
chariot, which stopped not till it reached the king's court-yard.

When the king saw the chariot he said nothing, but shook his head,
turned on the Useless Wagoner in a rage, and cried,--

"Useless Wagoner, I revile thy mother! In my stable there are a
hundred hares; and if thou dost not herd them three days, if thou dost
not drive them a-field in the morning and bring them back at night so
that not one shall be missing from the hundred, I'll strike off thy
head."

What was the poor Useless Wagoner to do? Against his will, and of
need, he let the hundred hares out of the stable and drove them
a-field. They had barely touched the edge of the field when they ran
in as many directions as there were hares. Who could bring them
together again? The poor Useless Wagoner ran first after one and then
after another hare; he chased the whole day, but could not bring back
a single hare. It was already growing late, time to go home, but the
hundred hares were in a hundred places; therefore the Useless Wagoner
became terribly sad, and wished to make an end of his own life,--it
was all the same whether he or the king took it; there was no
salvation for him anyhow. So he put his hand in his bosom to take out
his clasp-knife and strike himself in the heart, but instead of the
knife he found the whistle which the little fox had given him. That
was all he wanted; he drew out the whistle, sounded it, and, behold!
all the hares ran up to him,--as tame as pet lambs fed from the palm
of the hand.

When all the hares had come together he drove them home.

The king stood at the gate and let them in singly, counting, "One,
two, three ... ninety-nine, a hundred." Not one was missing.

Next day the Useless Wagoner drove the hares out again, and when they
had barely touched the edge of the field they ran off in as many
directions as there were hares.

But this time the Useless Wagoner took no thought of running and
chasing after them; he thought to himself that he would take his
whistle and blow, and they would come. So he lay down in a nice shady
place, and slept to his liking.

But the king did not sleep; he was racking his brain to destroy the
Useless Wagoner. So he called his only and dearly beloved daughter,
and said to her, "My darling daughter, I have a great favor to ask of
thee."

"What may it be, my father the king?"

"Of a truth nothing but this,--that thou dress in peasant's clothes,
and go out to the field where the Useless Wagoner is herding the
hundred hares, and beg one of him. If he gives it not for a good word,
mayhap he will give it for a sweet kiss; but come not home to me
without the hare, even if he asks a piece of thy body for it."

The princess granted her father's request. She gathered her wits about
her, dressed up in peasant's clothes, and went in the field to the
Useless Wagoner, who was sleeping at his leisure under a shady tree.
The princess pushed him with her foot; he woke, and saw in a moment
with whom he had to deal.

"God give thee a good-day, hareherd!"

"God save thee, king's daughter! What good dost thou bring the poor
hareherd?"

"I have brought nothing but this, that I have come because I would
like to get one little hare. Wouldst thou not give even one for good
money?"

"High princess, I will not give one for money; but if thou wilt give
me three kisses, I can give them back. Then I don't mind; I'll give
thee a hare."

So the princess got a hare for three pairs of kisses, and ran home
very joyfully; but just as she was touching the latch to open the
gate, the hareherd sounded his whistle, the hare jumped like lightning
from her bosom, and stopped not till it reached the flock.

The hareherd drove home his flock; the king was waiting for him at the
gate, and let them in one by one, counting till he came to a hundred.

Next day the hareherd drove out his hares the third time, and left
them to go their way.

The king now called his wife to the white chamber, and spoke thus to
her: "My heart's beautiful love, I have a great favor to ask of thee."

"And what may it be, my dear husband?"

"Of a truth, nothing but this,--that thou dress in peasant's clothes,
go to the hareherd in the field, and ask a hare of him. If he will not
give it for fair words, he may for a sweet kiss; but come not home to
me without a hare, even if he asks a piece of thy flesh."

Well, the queen yielded to her husband's request, put on a peasant's
dress, and went to the field, where she found the Useless Wagoner
sleeping in the shade. She roused him with her foot; he knew at once
who was in the peasant's dress.

"God give thee a good-day, hareherd!"

"God save thee, kind queen! What good hast thou brought the poor
hareherd? Why hast thou come, may I ask?"

"I have only come to ask if thou wilt give me a hare for good money."

"I will not give a hare for money, my queen; but if thou wilt give me
three kisses, I will return them again. Then I don't mind; I'll risk
my head, and let thee have a hare."

So the queen got a hare for three pairs of kisses, and took her way
home joyously; but just as she was putting her hand on the latch to
open the gate, the hareherd sounded the whistle, the hare jumped like
a flash from the queen's bosom, and stopped not till it joined its
companions.

When the hares were all together, the hareherd drove them home. The
king was waiting for him at the gate, let each in singly, counting
till he reached a hundred,--not one missing from the round number.

Next morning the hares were driven out as before; but the king now put
on a peasant's dress, and went to the field himself. When he came to
the hareherd he said: "God give thee good-day!"

"God save thee, poor man!" answered the hareherd. "What art thou
looking for?"

"Well, what's the use in delay or denial? I have come to buy a little
hare of thee for good money. Of course thou wilt part with one."

"I will not give one for money; but if I can wear out twelve rods on
thy back, I don't mind; I'll risk my head on it."

What was the king to do? He stretched himself out with face and hands
on the grass, and the hareherd flogged him as a corporal does a
soldier; but he endured it all, gritting his teeth, and thinking to
himself, "Wait a bit, thief of a Useless Wagoner, thou wilt have a
dose when I get at thee!"

But all to no use, for when the king had reached home, and was just
putting his hand on the latch to open the gate, the whistle sounded,
and the hare sprang away from him like a flash, and ran till it joined
the flock.

Then the Useless Wagoner drove home the hundred hares a fourth time.
The king was standing at the little gate; he counted them one by one,
but could find no fault, for they were all there.

The Useless Wagoner drove out the hares the fifth time to pasture; but
the king mounted the chariot which went wherever the owner commanded,
and drove to the Useless Wagoner, taking three empty bags with him.
"Dost hear me, thou!--this-and-that-kind-of-work-shunning? Hareherd, I
revile thy soul! If thou wilt not fill these three bags with truth, I
will strike off thy head."

To all this the Useless Wagoner answered in words: "The king's
daughter came out; I gave her, and she gave me. The queen came; I gave
her, and she gave me. The king came; I gave him, and he--"

"Stop! stop!" cried the king, "the three bags are full; and I'd rather
be in hell than hear thy words."

At this speech the chariot started off with the king, and never
stopped till it took him to the bottom of hell.

Then the Useless Wagoner went home, married the king's daughter,
became king, and reigns yet with his queen, unless he is dead.

MIRKO, THE KING'S SON.

Once there was a king, and he had three sons. The king rejoiced in his
three sons, and resolved to have them instructed in a befitting
manner, so that he might leave good heirs to the kingdom. Therefore he
sent his sons to school, where they got on well enough for a time,
till at length they turned their backs on the school, went home, all
three, and knew their studies no more.

The king grew fiercely angry at this, forbade his sons to stand before
his face, and betook himself to live in the chamber of his palace next
the rising sun, where he sat continually at the window and looked
towards the east as if waiting for something; and with one eye he wept
unceasingly, while with the other he laughed.

After the three princes had grown up to a good age, they agreed among
themselves to inquire of the king why he was always sitting in the
chamber next the rising sun, and why one of his eyes was always
crying, while the other was always laughing. First the eldest son went
in and put the question, saying, "My father the king, I have come to
ask why one of thy eyes is always crying and the other always
laughing, while thou art looking continually towards the east."

The king measured his son with his eyes from head to foot, said not a
word, but took a sword which hung at the window and hurled it at him
with such force that it sank into the door up to the hilt. The prince
sprang through the door, thus escaping the blow aimed at him. When he
came out his brothers asked what success he had had. He answered: "Try
yourselves; then ye will know." The second brother tried, with the
same result as the first. At last the youngest, who was called Mirko,
went in and declared the cause of his coming. The king answered him
not, but seized the sword in still greater anger, and hurled it at him
so that it entered the stone wall up to the hilt. Mirko did not spring
aside, but went to the sword, drew it out of the stone wall, took it
to the king, his father, and placed it before him on the table.

Seeing this, the king opened his mouth and said to Mirko: "I see now,
my son, that thou knowest somewhat better than thy two brothers what
honor is; to thee then will I give answer. My one eye weeps
unceasingly for sadness at your insignificance, not being fit to rule;
but my other eye laughs because in the time of my youth I had a trusty
comrade, the Hero of the Plain, who battled by my side, and he
promised that if he should overpower his enemies he would come to
dwell with me, that we might pass the days of our old age together.
For this reason I sit ever by the window next the rising sun, because
I await his coming; but every day there rise up against the Hero of
the Plain, who dwells in the silken meadow, as many enemies as there
are grass-blades on the field. Every day he unaided cuts them down;
and until all his enemies have disappeared, he will not be able to
come to me."

With that Mirko left his father's chamber, came out to his brothers,
and told them the king's speech. They counselled together again, and
agreed to ask leave of the king to try their fortune. First the eldest
son went to his father and made known his wish. The king consented,
and the eldest brother went to the royal stables where he chose a good
steed, which he saddled next day, and set out on his journey. After he
had been absent a whole year, behold he rides home, bearing on his
shoulders the top of the copper bridge, which he threw down before the
palace. He went in then, stood before the face of the king, and told
him where he had been and what he had brought back.

The king heard his son's discourse to the end, and said: "Oh, my son,
when I was of thy age the road to the copper bridge was a two hours'
ride for me. Thou art a soft hero. Thou wilt never make vitriol. Go
thy way."

With that, the eldest son left his father's chamber. After him the
second brother went in, and asked leave of the king to try his
fortune. Having received it, he went also to the stables and chose a
good steed, which he saddled, mounted, and went his way. At the end of
a year he came home, bringing the top of the silver bridge, which he
threw down in front of the palace; then he stood before the king, his
father, and told him where he had been and what he had brought back.

"Oh," said the king, "when I was of thy age that was only a three
hours' ride for me. Thou too art a soft hero; nothing at all will come
of thee." With that he dismissed the second son.

At last Mirko appeared; he also asked to try his fortune. The king
consented, and Mirko went to the stables to choose a steed. Finding
nothing to his mind, he went out to the royal stud and examined it
carefully, but could not decide which steed to take. Just then an old
witch chanced to be passing that way, and asked what he wanted. Mirko
told her. "Oh, my master," said she, "thou wilt not find a horse to
thy wish here, but I will tell thee how to find one. Go to the king,
thy father, and ask him for the horn with which in his youth he called
together his golden-haired steeds. Sound this horn and the steeds will
appear at once. Choose not among the golden-haired ones; but last of
all will come a shaggy-coated, crooked-legged old mare,--thou wilt
know her by this, that when she strikes the pillars with her tail the
whole palace will tremble from the blow. Choose her; try thy fortune
with her."

Mirko took the old witch's advice, went straightway to the king and
said: "My father, I have come that thou mayest give me the horn with
which in thy youth thou wert wont to call together thy golden-haired
steeds."

The king asked: "Who told thee of this horn?"

"No man," answered Mirko.

"Well, my dear son, if no man told thee, thou art wise; but if some
man told thee, he does not wish thee harm. I will tell thee where to
find the horn; the rust has eaten it up, perhaps, by this time. In the
seventh cellar it is enclosed in the wall; look for it, take it out,
and make use of it if thou art able."

Mirko called a mason, went with him to the seventh cellar, found the
hollow place in the wall, took out the horn, and carried it away. Then
standing on the square before the palace, he sounded towards the east,
the west, the south, and the north, and having waited a little,
behold! he hears the golden horse bells ringing so that the whole city
is full of the sound. The steeds came in, one more beautiful than the
other in appearance and in breed. At a distance he saw the
shaggy-haired, crooked-legged mare; and when she came to the gate, as
true as I live, she struck the pillars with her tail so that the whole
palace trembled.

When the steeds had stopped in the court-yard, Mirko went up to the
mare, led her away to the stable, and then said that he had taken her
to try his fortune. The magic mare answered: "That is well, my lord
king's son; but first thou must feed me, for without that it will be
hard to endure the long road."

"What kind of food dost thou wish?--for whatever my father has, I will
give thee with a good heart."

"Very well, kind master; but a steed must be fed before starting, not
while on the road."

"I know not what I can do," said Mirko, "except to give what I have
with a good heart."

"Bring me straightway a measure of peas, and turn them into the
manger."

Mirko obeyed, and when the peas were eaten, he brought a measure of
beans; when these were eaten the mare turned to Mirko and said: "Now
bring me half a measure of glowing coals."

The coals were brought; and when she had eaten the glowing coals, she
became such a golden-haired steed as the Star of Dawn, and spoke
further to Mirko. "Go now, my master, to the king, and ask of him that
saddle which he used when he coursed the meadow with me in his youth."

Mirko went to the old king and asked for the saddle. The king answered
that it was useless, for it had been thrown about a long time in the
carriage-house, but if he could find it, he might take it. Mirko went
to the carriage-house and found the saddle all befouled by the hens
and turkeys. He took it, however, to his steed, which said that it was
not proper for a king's son to sit on such a saddle. Mirko was about
to carry it away and have a fresh cover put on, when she said: "Place
it before me." He obeyed. Straightway she blew on it, and in an
instant it became such a golden saddle that its like could not be
found in seven kingdoms.

With this he saddled the magic mare, and she said: "Go now, my dear
master, to thy father, and ask him for the weapons and the sword with
which he fought when he journeyed with me."

Mirko asked his father; the old king said they were on the shelf if he
wanted them. Mirko took them to the mare, who blew on them, and
instantly they became the most beautiful gold-mounted sword and
weapons. Mirko girded on the sword and took the weapons. Then the
bridle was brought, and when blown upon became of the most beautiful
gold.

Mirko bridled the mare, led her out of the stable, and wished to sit
in the saddle, but she said: "Wait, my dear master; lead me out of the
city first, and then sit on me." He hearkened to these words, and led
her out of the city; then she stood still, and he sat in the saddle.

The magic steed now asked: "How shall I bear thee, dear master; with
the speed of the fleet whirlwind, or of quick thought?"

"Carry me as may please thee," answered the prince; "only manage so
that I shall endure the swift flight."

"Well, close thy eyes," said the steed, "and hold fast."

Mirko closed his eyes; the steed shot on like a rushing whirlwind, and
after a short time struck the earth with her foot, and said to Mirko:
"Open thy eyes! What dost thou see?"

"I see," said he, "a great river and a copper bridge."

"That, my dear master, is the bridge the top of which thy first
brother brought home; but look for the open place."

"I see it," said Mirko; "but where are we going from here?"

"Only close thy eyes; I will take thee straight there."

With that she moved as quick as thought, and in a few moments struck
the earth, stood still, and said to Mirko: "Open thy eyes! What dost
thou see?"

"I see a great river, and across it a silver bridge."

"That is the bridge the top of which thy second brother took home;
look for the open place."

"I see it," said Mirko; "but where do we go from here?"

"Only close thy eyes," said the steed; "I will take thee at once."

With that she moved on like lightning, and in a flash stamped on the
ground, and said to the prince: "Open thy eyes! What dost thou see?"

"I see," said Mirko, "an enormously wide and deep river, across it a
golden bridge, and at both ends of the bridge, at this side and that,
are four unmercifully large lions. Must we cross this bridge?"

"Never mind," said the steed, "I'll manage; only shut thy eyes."

The mare sped on like a swift falcon, and thus flew across the bridge.
After a short time she struck the ground, and said: "Open thy eyes!
What dost thou see?"

"I see," replied Mirko, "a summitless, high glass mountain, as steep
as the side of a house."

"We must cross that very mountain, my master."

"That, I think, is impossible," said Mirko.

"Fear not," said the steed; "for I have on my feet the shoes which thy
father fastened to me with diamond nails, seven hundred years ago.
Only shut thy eyes and hold to me firmly."

Now the steed sprang up, and in an instant was on the glass mountain.
She stamped, and said, "Open thy eyes! What dost thou see?"

"I see," said Mirko, "when I look behind, something dark, as large as
a great plate."

"Oh, my master, that is the round of the earth. But what dost thou see
before thee?"

"I see a narrow glass road, rising like a half circle. On both sides
of it is emptiness of bottomless depth."

"My dear master, we must pass over that road; but the passage is so
delicate that if one of my feet slip the least bit to one side or the
other, there is an end to our lives. But trust thyself to me, and
close thy eyes. Hold fast, I will manage."

With that she swept on, and in an instant stamped again. "Open thy
eyes! What dost thou see?"

"I see behind me," said Mirko, "a faint light, in front of me is
darkness so dense that when I hold my finger before my eyes I cannot
see it."

"Well, we must go through that also; shut thy eyes and hold firmly."

She sped on anew, and again stamped. "Open thy eyes! What dost thou
see now?"

"I see," said Mirko, "the most glorious, light, beautiful,
snow-covered mountains, and in the midst of them a silken meadow; in
the centre of the silken meadow something dark."

"This silken meadow," said the steed, "belongs to the Hero of the
Plain; and the dark object in the middle is his tent, woven from black
silk. Now close thy eyes or not as may please thee. We shall go there
directly." Mirko spurred the steed, and they were at the tent in a
twinkle.

Mirko sprang from his steed and left her at the tent by the side of
that of the Hero of the Plain, and entered himself. Within lay a
warrior stretched on the silken grass, sleeping; but a sword above him
was cutting around in every direction, so that a fly could not light
on his body. "Well," thought Mirko to himself, "though he be a good
warrior I could slay him in slumber; but it would not be honorable to
slay a sleeping man. I will wait till he rises." Then he went out and
tied his steed fast to the tent, near the other, stretched himself on
the silken grass, and called: "Sword out of thy sheath!" and the sword
cut around above him, as his sword above the Hero of the Plain, so
that a fly could not touch his body.

When the Hero of the Plain woke up and saw that a horse was tied near
his own, he marvelled, and said: "What does this mean? I am here seven
hundred years, and I have not seen a strange horse near mine before.
Whose can this be?" He rose, went out, and saw Mirko sleeping near the
tent with the sword cutting above him. "That," said he, "is an honest
warrior; he has not slain me while sleeping. It would not become me to
touch him now."

Then he pushed the foot of the sleeping hero with his own. Mirko
jumped up straightway, and the Hero of the Plain asked: "Who art thou,
and on what journey?" Mirko told whose son he was, and what his
journey. "God has brought thee, dear younger brother," said the Hero;
"thy father is my old friend, and thou, I see, art as good as thy
father. But I have need of thee. This great silken meadow which thou
seest, is every day filled with enemies, and every day I cut them
down; but to-day as thou art with me, we shall not hurry. Come, let us
eat and drink; let them crowd." Then the two went in, ate and drank
till the enemy had so increased that they reached almost to the tent.
The Hero of the Plain sprang then to his feet and said: "Up, my
comrade, we'll soon finish." Both leaped into their saddles and rushed
to the centre of the enemy, crying out, "Sword from the sheath!" The
swords hewed off the heads of the countless multitude, so there was
scarcely room to move for bodies. Twelve of the opposing warriors now
flee from the rear, the Hero of the Plain and Mirko pursuing. They
come to a glass mountain; the twelve warriors rushing ahead. Mirko
pursues in hot haste. On the top of the mountain there is a nice,
level space; he sees them running upon it. He gallops after them; but
all at once they are as if the ground had swallowed them. Mirko
springs to the place where they disappear, finds a breach and a deep
opening with winding steps. His steed rushes into the opening and down
the stairs; they are soon in the lower world.

Mirko looks around the lower world and sees a shining diamond castle,
which serves instead of the sun down there. The twelve fleeing
warriors rush towards the castle, he after them, and ordering his
sword out of the sheath, cuts off their heads in a moment. The next
instant Mirko stands before the diamond castle. Within, there is such
a clatter and pounding that the whole interior trembles and shivers.
He dismounts and enters. Inside is an old witch weaving, and the
racket is deafening. The building is full of armed men. The infernal
old witch weaves them. When she throws her shuttle to the right, two
hussars spring out on horseback; when she throws it to the left, two
men on foot jump out armed.

Meanwhile Sword out of the Sheath cuts down the newly made soldiers,
but the old witch weaves more. "Well," thinks Mirko to himself, "I
shall never get out of here, at this rate;" but he commands the sword,
and it cuts the old witch into small pieces. Then he carries the loom
into the yard, where there is a pile. He throws everything on the pile
and sets fire to it; but when all is burned one of the old witch's
ribs springs out, begins to turn round in the dust, and she rises up
again entire. Again Mirko is going to command the sword to cut her to
pieces, but she speaks up, "Spare my life, Mirko, and await one good
deed for another, if thou wilt let me go. Thou dost not know how to
escape from here; I will give thee four diamond horse-shoe nails. Do
as I say; thou wilt profit by it."

Mirko takes the nails and puts them away, but says to himself: "If I
leave the old witch alive, she will put up her loom again, and the
Hero of the Plain will never be able to free himself from his
enemies." Again he orders his sword to cut the old witch in pieces; he
throws the pieces into the fire, where they are consumed, so that she
can never rise again. He mounts his steed and searches the underground
world, but nowhere does he find a living soul.

Then he puts spurs to his steed, springs up the circular stairs, and
issues forth into the upper world. Straightway he comes down from the
glass mountain, and passing over the silken meadow, returns to the
Hero of the Plain, who thought Mirko had left him. But when he saw his
friend returning, he went out to meet him with great joy, and took him
into the tent, where they feasted together gloriously. And when the
prince rose to go, he offered him his silken meadow and all the royal
domains; but Mirko answered: "My dear elder brother, I have finished
thy enemies; they will never attack thy kingdom again. I have this now
to ask, that thou come with me to my father the king, who has long
been waiting for thee."

Thereupon they mounted their steeds, and set out for the realms of the
old king. They went on easily till they reached the glass mountain,
where the Hero of the Plain stopped, and said: "My dear younger
brother, I cannot go on, for the diamond nails are long since worn
from my horse's shoes, and his feet have no grip."

Mirko called to mind that the cursed old witch had given him the
diamond nails, and said: "Grieve not, elder brother, I have nails;
I'll shoe thy horse this minute."

So he took out the nails, and shod the Hero's horse. Then they
continued their journey over the glass mountain with ease and comfort,
like two jolly comrades, and sped homeward as swiftly as thought.

At that time the old king was sitting at the window of his palace
next the rising sun, and lo! he beholds two horsemen riding towards
him. Straightway he takes his field-glass, and sees that it is his
trusty old comrade, the Hero of the Plain, together with his son
Mirko. He runs out, and from the tower commands that a twelve-year old
ox be killed; and when Mirko and the Hero arrive, the great feast is
ready. He receives them with joy, kisses and embraces them; this time
both his eyes are laughing. Then they sat down to the feast, ate and
drank with gladness. Meanwhile the Hero of the Plain spoke of Mirko's
doings, and among other things said to the old king: "Well, comrade,
thy son Mirko will be a better hero than we were; he is already a
gallant youth. Thou hast cause to rejoice in him."

"Indeed, I begin to be satisfied with him," said the king, "especially
since he has brought thee. But I do not think he would venture yet to
measure strength with Doghead."

Mirko heard the conversation, but said nothing. After dinner, however,
he spoke to the Hero of the Plain apart, and inquired who Doghead was,
and in what direction he lived. The Hero of the Plain told him that
Doghead lived in the north, and was such a hero that his like was not
under the sun.

Mirko made preparations for his journey, took provisions, and next day
set out for Doghead's. According to his wont, he sat on his steed,
held fast, and closed his eyes. The steed sped on, flying like the
swift whirlwind. At length she stopped, struck the ground, and said to
Mirko: "Open thy eyes! What dost thou see?"

"I see," said the prince, "a seven-story diamond castle, so bright
that I can look on the sun, but not on it."

"Well, Doghead lives there; that is the royal castle."

Mirko sprang towards it, stopped right under the window, and called
out in a loud voice: "Art thou here, Doghead? I have an account to
settle with thee."

Doghead was not at home, but his daughter was, and such a beautiful
princess that her like could not be found on the whole round of the
earth. As she sat by the window embroidering, and heard the loud,
piercing voice, she looked out so angrily with her wondrous black,
beautiful eyes that Mirko and his horse were turned into stone in an
instant from the flash. Then she thought: "Maybe this young man is a
king's son." She went to look at him, was sorry she had turned him to
stone so quickly, and approached, taking a golden rod, walked around
the stone statue and struck it on all sides with the rod. The stone
began to move, and in a moment Mirko and his horse stood alive before
her. Then the maiden asked, "Who art thou, and on what journey?"

Mirko answered that he was a king's son, and had come to see
Doghead's daughter.

The maiden was so displeased that she called out to her father very
angrily; but presently she thought better of it, fell in love with
Mirko, and led him up into the seven-story diamond palace, where she
saw him with a good heart. During conversation at the table, Mirko
confessed that he had come to try his strength with Doghead.

The maiden advised him not to do that, since there was no man on the
round of the earth whom her father could not conquer. Seeing, however,
that Mirko would not desist from his purpose, she took compassion on
him, and told how her father might, perhaps, be overcome. "Go down,"
said she "into the seventh cellar of the castle. There thou wilt find
an unsealed cask, in which my father keeps his strength. Here is a
silver flask; fill it from the cask. Do not stop the flask, but keep
it always hanging from thy neck uncorked; and when thy strength begins
to fail, dip thy little finger in. Every time thou shalt do so, thy
strength will be increased with the strength of five thousand men.
Drink of the wine, for every drop contains the strength of five
thousand men."

Mirko listened to her advice attentively, hung the flask upon his
neck, went into the cellar, and found the wine. He took a good draught
of it; then thinking that he had enough, and lest Doghead might make
further use of the wine, he poured it all on the ground, to the last
drop. There were six measures of wheat-flour in the cellar, which he
sprinkled around to absorb the moisture. Having done this, he went up
to Doghead's daughter, and declared that he was ready, and thanking
her for the counsel, vowed to take her as wife for her kindness, and
swore eternal fidelity.

The beautiful princess consented, making one condition,--that if Mirko
should overcome her father, he would spare his life.

Mirko asked the maiden when her father might be expected to return,
and from what quarter.

She answered that he was then in the realms of the setting sun, that
he took delight in those regions, but would soon be home, for it was
the hour of his coming. But it was easy to know it beforehand, for
when he was forty miles distant, he was in the habit of hurling home a
forty-hundred-pound club before him; and wherever it fell a fountain
gushed out of the earth.

Mirko and the princess went on the balcony to wait for Doghead; all at
once (the Lord save us!) the sky grew dark, and a forty-hundred pound
club fell in the court-yard. A stream rushed out of the earth as if
from a force-pump.

Mirko ran down straightway to see how much his strength had increased.
He picked up the club, whirled it around his head, and let it go so
that it came down just in front of Doghead. Doghead's horse stumbled
over the club, whereupon his master flew into a rage, and cried out:
"May the wolves and dogs devour thee! Seven hundred years have I
ridden thee, and to this day thou hast never stumbled. Why begin now?"

"Oh, dear master," answered the magic steed, "there is mighty trouble
at home; for the club which thou hast sent ahead has been hurled back,
and I stumbled over it."

"Oh, that's nothing!" said Doghead. "Seven hundred years ago I saw in
a dream that I should have a struggle with Mirko, the king's son, some
day. He is now at the castle; but what is he to me? There is more
strength in my little finger than in his whole body." With that
Doghead sped homeward and was soon there.

Mirko, the king's son, was waiting in the court-yard, and when Doghead
saw the prince he made straight towards him and said: "Mirko, I know
that thou art waiting for me. Well, here I am; what dost thou wish,
that we should fight with swords or wrestle?"

"I care not," answered Mirko; "any way that may please thee."

"Well, let us try it first with swords," said Doghead.

He got off his horse; they stood face to face, and both commanded:
"Sword out of the sheath."

The swords sprang out in fighting, and so cut above the heads of the
two that the whole place was rattling with their blows. Sparks flew so
thickly from their fierce slashing that fire covered the ground, and
it was impossible to stand long in one place.

Then Doghead said: "Let us not spoil our swords, but put them up and
try wrestling."

They laid aside the swords and began to wrestle. Doghead seized Mirko
by the body, raised him up in the air, and so planted him on the
ground that he sank in it up to the girdle. Mirko, frightened at this,
thrust his little finger into the flask, and became so strong that he
sprang out of the earth in a moment, rushed at Doghead, and so
stretched him on the ground that he lay there like a flattened frog.
Then, seizing him by the hair, he dragged him toward the castle, where
a golden bridge was built across a bottomless lake. Having brought him
to the middle of the bridge, he held his head above the water and
commanded the sword to cut. The head fell into the bottomless lake,
and Mirko threw the body after.

Doghead's daughter saw all this, and was powerfully angry at Mirko,
the king's son. When he came before her she turned her face away and
would not come to speech with him. But Mirko explained that he could
not have done otherwise, for if he had spared Doghead's life, he would
have lost his own; but as he had pledged his faith to the princess, he
held to his word, and would marry her. The princess approved this,
and they agreed to make ready and set out for Mirko's kingdom. The
horses were brought,--Doghead's magic steed for the princess. They
mounted the horses, but when ready to start, Mirko became very
sorrowful.

"Why art thou sad Mirko?" inquired the princess.

"Because," said he, "I wish greatly to go home, but it is hard to
leave this glorious, seven-story diamond castle here, which was thy
father's, for there is none like it in our kingdom."

"Oh, my dear," said the princess, "I will turn it at once into a
golden apple. I will sit in the middle of the apple; thou mayst put it
in thy pocket, and thus carry home the castle and me. There thou canst
change it back again whenever the wish comes."

The beautiful princess came down from her horse, gave the reins to
Mirko, and taking out a diamond rod walked around the building and
struck it on the sides with the rod. The castle began to shrink
together, and became smaller and smaller until it was the size of a
watchman's booth. Then she jumped in and it became a golden apple, but
the diamond rod remained on the ground outside. Mirko, the king's son,
picked up the golden apple and the diamond rod, put them in his
pocket, sat on his steed, and leading Doghead's horse by the bridle,
travelled home comfortably.

When Mirko had come home and seen his horses in the stable he went to
the palace, where he found the old king with the Hero of the Plain,
satisfied and amused. He told them that he had conquered Doghead and
put him to death; but the old king and the Hero of the Plain shook
their heads.

Mirko, taking them both by the hands, said: "Come with me, and I will
show you, so that ye may see with your own eyes that I have beaten
Doghead; for not only have I brought his seven-story diamond castle
with me, but his loveliest daughter with the castle, as proof of my
work."

The old king and the Hero of the Plain marvelled at Mirko's speech,
and were in doubt; but they went with him, and he led them to the
flowery garden of the palace, in the middle of which Mirko took a
beautiful spacious place for the diamond castle, where he put down the
golden apple. He began to turn and strike it on the sides with the
diamond rod. The apple swelled out and began to extend with four
corners, and grew greater and greater, till it became a seven-story
diamond castle as high as the trees.

Then taking them by the hands he led them up the diamond staircase and
entered the halls of the castle, where the world-renowned beautiful
princess met and received them with a good heart. Then she sent for
the old king's other sons and the chief men of his court. In the
dining-hall was a great horse-shoe table. She commanded it; the table
opened of itself, and every kind of precious meat and drink appeared
upon it. Then the assembled guests feasted joyously. The old king was
satisfied at last with his son. He gave Mirko his kingdom and all his
possessions, but he withdrew himself to quiet private life, with the
Hero of the Plain, and many a pleasant day the old comrades had
together; and the old king's two eyes were always laughing. The royal
pair lived happily, and had beautiful children. They are still alive
if they are not dead.

THE REED MAIDEN.

There was once a king, and he had two sons. The king sent his eldest
son to marry. He went, and chose the elder sister of the Reed Maiden.
When he brought home his wife the king was satisfied with the choice.
After that the king sent his younger son to marry, and he answered
that he would not take any poor skeleton of a thing, but that his wife
must be the most beautiful flower on the whole round of the
earth,--the most lovely, world-beautiful maiden.

Once the king's two sons went to hunt; on the way home the younger
said to the elder: "My dear elder brother, I would beg of thee a
favor."

"And what may it be, younger brother?"

"In truth, no other than this: When we come home, ask thy wife if
there is any one more beautiful than she."

"If that's thy trouble, it is no great matter, for my wife is just
coming to meet us.--Well, my heart's gold-enclosed ruby, wilt thou
answer one question? Thou art for me the most beautiful, but is there
one still more beautiful in the world?"

Now the princess all at once acted like one hard of hearing; she
answered nothing, but stopped them with a nod, and commanded with her
eye, "Silence! not a word more."

It stopped there. The younger brother, whatever he did not do, he
stole into his brother's bed-chamber quietly. In the evening, when the
elder brother and his wife came in, the husband said: "Tell me, my
heart's heart, why didst thou not answer my question a little while
ago?"

"I did not answer, dear husband, because thou didst ask me before thy
brother. It would not have been well for him to know that I have a
younger sister who is the most beautiful maiden on the whole round of
the earth, but she is hidden in the middle one of three reeds; for
this reason she is known as the world-beautiful Reed Maiden. The other
two reeds are her waiting-maids."

"But thou hast not told me, my dear, in what corner of the world she
is hidden."

"Oh, my dear husband, it is far from here,--as far as from here there
and from there back; but as thou hast asked I will tell thee. Hast
thou heard of the fame of the Black Sea?"

"I have not, indeed."

"Well, if thou hast not, then hear now. In the seventy-seventh island
of the Black Sea, right in the middle, are hidden three reeds, but no
mortal could go to them unless by some magic power or infernal art;
but if by a miracle he should get there, he would not be able to bring
away anything.--First, because there is such darkness on the islands
of the Black Sea that a spoon might stand up in it; second, because
the world-beautiful Reed Maiden is guarded by a witch whose life will
end when the reeds are cut down; therefore she guards them as the
light of her two eyes, or still more carefully. But if any man could
bring the maiden away, he would be the happiest person in the wide
world; for the islands would be lighted up, and he would gain a wife
whom the starry heavens would gaze upon with smiles."

When the king's younger son had heard all this from root to branch, he
went out of the room by the same way he had entered. Then saddling his
best and favorite steed, he put provisions in his bag and moved out
into the wide world in search of the beautiful Reed Maiden. He
journeyed and travelled over forty-nine kingdoms and beyond the
Operentsia Sea till he came to a hut; in the hut an old woman was
living: "God give thee good-day, dear old mother."

"If thou hadst not called me old mother, I should have eaten thee on
the spot. But whither art thou journeying in this strange land, where
even a bird does not go?"

"I am looking for the world-beautiful Reed Maiden, who is blooming in
the seventy-seventh island of the Black Sea. Hast thou not heard of
her, dear old mother?"

"What's the use in denying, my son? I have not heard. Why should I
evade, since it can neither harm nor profit me? But here in the
neighboring valley, over the mountain, straight ahead, near a round
forest on the top of a hill, lives my elder sister; if she knows
nothing about it, then no one in the world knows. Here, Mitsi, come
out! Conduct the king's son to my elder sister."

The king's son followed Mitsi, who was no other than a large-whiskered
little mouse. When they came to a cross-road Mitsi squeaked once,
showed the middle of the road, and ran home. The king's son went along
the right road, and arrived at the hut in which the second sister
lived. She received him in like manner as the first, and sent her
servant, Pitsi, to show him the road to her eldest sister. Pitsi was
no other than a dove-white squirrel, with a long bushy tail. When the
king's son came to the third hut, where the eldest sister lived, he
said: "God give thee a good-day, dear old mother."

"If thou hadst not called me old mother, I should have eaten thee on
the spot. Whither art thou wandering in this strange land, where even
a bird does not go?"

"I am in search of the world-beautiful Reed Maiden, who is blooming in
the seventy-seventh island of the Black Sea. Hast thou not heard of
her, dear old mother?"

"Oh, king's son, thou wouldst wear off thy horse's legs to the knees,
and wear out twelve pairs of iron boots on thy own feet, before thou
couldst reach that place, for it is only possible to go there on a
steed that has sucked dragon's milk, eaten glowing coals, and drunk
the fiery flame; but thou hast in thy head three golden hairs, grown
from one root, of which thou hast known nothing to this moment. Come
hither; let me cut them out."

The king's son bent down his head. The old woman cut out the three
golden hairs. "See, my son, these three hairs have wondrous power. A
fairy gave them to thy father, with whom, as he was a beautiful man,
she fell in love, and thou hast inherited them. Here they are; I give
them to thee with this latch-string. Go up on this terribly high
mountain, which in front of my hut supports the heavens. When thou
shalt come to the top, strike the three golden hairs with the
latch-string three times; at once will stand before thee a magic steed
that has grown up on the silken meadow, sucked dragon's milk, eaten
glowing coals, and drunk fiery flames."

The king's son gave heartfelt thanks for the kindness shown him, then
went up on the great unclimbable mountain that supported the heavens.
When he had reached the top he took out the three golden hairs and
struck them three times with the old latch-string. Behold, a fiery
cloud rushed towards him like a shot arrow, with a fearful rumbling
and cracking, as if a whole stud of horses were before it, and then
stood still above his head. All at once he heard from the fiery cloud
a triple neighing, at the sound of which, as of a bell, the earth
trembled three times. The magic steed rushed out, and like a flood,
like a cloud-burst, plunged down by his side, blowing from its
nostrils varied flames,--red, blue, and green. The latch-string became
such a saddle that for the fur and diamond buttons, and silver and
gold embroidery, the earth could not be seen.

"Hip, hop! here am I, dear master! That there be no delay in thy
affair, wilt thou not sit on my back that I may be off with thee?
Shall I go like the swiftest whirlwind, or like thought, or as a bird
can fly?"

"Go, my dear steed, in such fashion that there may be no fault in thee
or me."

"But before we set out on the long road," said the magic steed, "I
wish to say this: Since such dense darkness reigns in the islands that
a spoon might stand straight in it, we must first go to the bright
antechamber of the Sun, and take thence one burning ray."

When the steed had thus ended the speech, he rose in the airy heavens.
They journeyed and travelled across forty-nine kingdoms till they came
to the portals of the earth, where two bearded wolves stood on guard.
These wolves stood on the road and demanded toll. The toll was no
other than two pounds of flesh from the good steed. Now, if two pounds
of flesh were taken from the steed, it would be but half magic, and
so would never reach the end of the road. Whatever the king's son did
not do, he took his gleaming clasp-knife and cut out two pounds of his
own flesh; then he threw it to the bearded wolves, and only on this
condition did they let him pass.

The king's son pursued his way till he came to the Sun's bright
antechamber, where he tied his steed to a diamond pillar; then he
bathed in the fire-bath, and rubbed with fire-towels; looking at
himself from head to foot in the shining wall of the antechamber as in
a mirror, he combed his hair with a golden comb. Here, 'pon my soul,
what came of the affair, or what did not, a subject-spirit in the
service of the Sun became enraged in good earnest (for his eyebrows
struggled with each other),--no doubt it was at the king's son,--and
with a single breath, which the son of the hurricane could not
withstand, blew straight ahead, so that the king's son did not feel
the ground under his feet for seventy-seven miles. Then he fell into a
terribly dark opening, and groped along in this cavern, feeling his
way like a blind man. If he made a step, he trod on a serpent; if he
felt with his hand, he grasped a warty toad; if he looked around, he
saw only red-eyed worms,--creeping, crawling things. He went on and on
till he heard the plash of seething water. The beating of iron hammers
struck his ear-drum, and so struck as almost to break it. This is the
place where thunderbolts are made. He went on till he came to a great
iron gate, standing open just then; but a tremendous, cursed,
hundred-headed dragon, who let no one pass, kept guard there. What
could the king's son take hold of? What could he do with his life?
Here, upon my soul! what he did, or what he did not do, he took out a
sweet-speaking, magic flute, and blew on it so sadly that his tears
rolled down. Such touching notes did he draw from the flute that the
great powerful beast--the hundred-headed dragon--became as a lamb,
lowered his bloody crest; his bristling scales dropped smoothly, one
on the other; he stretched on the ground, and cowered, whining like a
dog when he beholds his master after an absence. Seeing this, the
king's son grew bold, and going straight to the dragon, stepped upon
him, walked on his back, and the terrible wild beast did not mind it;
he only licked his foot, wagged his tail, and let the king's son pass
over.

After he had gone through the gate the darkness began to part; and no
wonder, for a charm-given, lovely maiden, in a purple velvet robe,
stepped before him. She was no other than Dawn, the dearest and
best-beloved daughter of the Sun. Now, the splendid young prince
pleased this flower of the skies. She placed him by her side on her
winged steed, and flew across the vault of heaven, and they swept on
till they reached the razor bridge. When they touched the bridge,
their horse became as if he were not; and they crossed so that the
horse's feet were not injured, and the razor's edge was not dented.
Having passed the razor bridge they came to the copper forest, where
were working at that moment the woodcutters of the Sun, who on iron
wagons were taking wood to the kitchen, with a terrible rattling and
pounding. Thence they rode to the silver forest, where silver-white
birds cheered every wanderer. Two of the birds came and sang the
sweetest notes. The silver-trees inclined thrice to the daughter of
the Sun. Next they reached the golden forest, where sweet-voiced,
golden-yellow birds enlivened the visitors, and threw down golden nuts
here and there from the trees. The golden forest bent thrice to the
daughter of the Sun.

In the middle of the golden forest was Dawn's garden; in the garden
her copper-roofed mansion. When the Beauty of the Skies came home the
pearly flowers shook their bells, and began to sound. On hearing this,
the stars swept forth like a swarm, and glittered round about. The
maiden nodded but once, and behold! purple clouds swam before her like
so many sky-sacks, which serve on the extended firmament as boats.
Dawn took her seat, but first she spread her mantle and seated the
king's son at her side. Lest his part of the boat might be heavier,
she drew him nearer to her with an embrace; but he dared not embrace
in return.

They sailed and sailed through the airy heavens till they were weary;
then they tied their boat to the tree with diamond blossoms, silver
leaves, and golden apples. They sat on a golden bench under the tree,
and were there but a moment, when at a nod from the Sun's daughter a
golden butterfly appeared more quickly than a spoken word, and brought
fresh-gathered honey of the skies on a rose-leaf. When they had eaten,
thirst seized the king's son; then a modest star came bringing a
goblet on a silver tray, in the goblet a charm-drink, and when the
king's son had drunk from the golden goblet his thirst fell away as if
it had been cut in two.

When their hunger and thirst were gone, at the Sun's daughter's nod
the modest stars brought a cithara. Dawn then played on its golden
chords with silver feathers, and sounded such notes that a man hearing
them would spring up and whirl in the dance, even if his own father
were lying dead on the table. After that came the hour of rest; the
king's son was led across seventy-seven chambers to the bath-room. In
the middle of the room stood a great golden cask filled with dew, and
on a boxwood table lay lathery soap. The king's son bathed in the
dew-water, washed himself with the lathery soap, and wiped with a
towel of gold.

When he rose next morning, Dawn gave him a burning ray which she wound
up like a ribbon, put in a box, and hung with a golden hair on the
neck of the king's son. After that they parted amidst tear-shedding.
The Sun's daughter sped across the vault of heaven on her winged
steed, and the king's son continued his journey.

As I say, he had a ray to light up the island. The king's son
journeyed and travelled till the steed spoke, saying: "Listen, dear
master."

"What is thy command, dear horse?"

"Gird thyself well, for thou must cut the three reeds at a blow; a
second blow would lose thee thy head. If at one blow thou succeed, the
island will be lighted up. The world-beautiful maiden and her two
attendants will be thine, but only on condition that thou cut not open
the reeds before coming to water; for if thou dost, they will die a
fearful death in a moment."

The king's son promised by heaven and earth that he would act as told.
On the seventh day they came to the island of the Black Sea, where
there was such darkness that a spoon would have stood up in it; but
the king's son drew out the box hanging by the golden hair and removed
the cover. All at once the way was lighted, but so strangely that it
gave light only to him; he could see everything, but not a created
soul could see him. When he came to where the three reeds were
growing, they bent before him and bowed to the earth. They continued
to bow; at the best moment the king's son drew his sword and with a
blow all three reeds fell upon his breast. But from the three
reed-stumps black blood sprang forth, and a bitter wail was heard as
if a naked sword had been thrust into some one's heart. It had been
thrust into the heart of the witch; for the black blood was hers, and
the bitter wail was her death-sigh. She could only live while the
three reeds stood. As soon as the old witch had breathed out her soul,
the burning ray flew out of the silver box as if it had been shot from
a gun, and the whole island was in light.

Then the king's son sat on his good steed and journeyed over
forty-nine kingdoms as swiftly as the most fleet-winged bird could go.
Once curiosity rose in him to know if there was indeed something in
the reeds, and what it could be like. I say, curiosity rose up in him,
and bored his side as if with an iron auger, so that what he did or
did not do, he took out his gleaming knife and split the smallest
reed, in which was the youngest attendant of the world-beautiful Reed
Maiden. No sooner had he split the reed than a beauteous, pearl-given,
lovely girl fell upon his breast; and her first word was: "Water! Only
as much water as a little swallow takes in her beak when she gives
drink to her young, or I die!"

But the king's son had it not. One drop of water is not much, but he
could not give that much. The beautiful maiden, like a broken flower,
began to wither, grew paler and paler, till at last the pallor of
death seized her head, and bending to the breast of the king's son,
she died.

The king's son was so sorry for his fault that if it had been
possible, he would have atoned for it with his blood; but that was
not possible. Therefore he came down from his good steed, dug a grave
with his sword, and buried the maiden; as a grave-mark he planted the
split reed, and from it a black rose sprang, which as mourning,
bloomed in black.

A bitter weeping wail, a bitter woe-cry was heard from the two reeds
that were not split yet, as if some one were bewailing a brother.
Great sadness seized the king's son too, who thought, "I caused the
death of this maiden. I broke this flower and planted it in the bosom
of death." But if he had wept out his soul, it would have been
useless; therefore he mounted his steed and rode farther. He travelled
and journeyed till curiosity rose in his breast, and bored his side as
with an iron auger. "Is there in the second reed another such maiden;
and will she go like the first?"

At last he could resist the devil's boring no longer; so he took his
gleaming clasp-knife, and split the second reed also. Behold, the
elder attendant of the Reed Maiden, came out, saying: "Water, water,
or I shall die a fearful death!" But the king's son had not one drop
of water; the maiden grew paler and paler, till she dropped her head
on the breast of the king's son, and died. The king's son came to the
earth, dug a grave with his sword, and buried the maiden. At the head
of the grave he placed the split reed; from it a beautiful rose-bush
sprang up, which bloomed in black, as mourning.

A bitter weeping wail, a bitter woe-cry of pain was heard from the
unsplit reed, in which the world-beautiful maiden herself was hidden;
and no less grief seized the king's son. He had killed two; with his
own strength he had broken two beautiful flowers, and put them in the
bosom of death. Grief covered him with black wing. His good steed went
as a bird of swiftest flight till curiosity rose up in the breast of
the king's son, bored his side as with an iron auger. "What sort of
person is his future bride? who is the world-beautiful Reed Maiden?"

Since he could not resist this devil's boring, this mighty curiosity,
he took out the third and last reed to split it; but the magic steed
reached back, and taking the reed from the king's son, did not return
it till they came to the shore of a lake.

At the water the king's son split the last reed, and there came forth
such a maiden that her like was not born since the world began, nor
before, nor after. Her first word was: "Water! Only as much water as a
little swallow takes in her beak when she gives drink to her young, or
I shall die in a moment!"

The king's son gave her to drink; she felt better. Then they embraced,
and kissed, saying, "I am thine, thou art mine."

"Listen, my beautiful love," said the king's son, "while I ride home
for a carriage of glass and gold do thou hide in this willow; but till
I see thee, though one word is not much, speak not that much to any
one."

The king's son rode for the glass and golden carriage; the maiden
climbed the willow where she hid. Now, what came of the affair, and
what did not, while the king's son was gone a crawfish-gathering gypsy
girl happened under the willow-tree, and looking in the water she saw
the quivering image of the charming maiden. Putting her hand on her
hip she said: "What a beautiful shadow I have, quite worthy of a
princess."

"It's thine of course! I'll tell whose it is," said a golden bird from
the tree, in a golden voice.

The gypsy looked into the tree, where she saw the world-beautiful
princess, for the sight of whom the sun would have stood still in