Chapter 3

So the man and his wife were very happy together, and were never tired of thanking the Wind. They had not had the sack and the ram very long when they grew very rich, and then the husband said to the wife, "I tell thee what, wife!"--"What?" said she.--"Let us invite my brother to come and see us."--"Very good," she replied; "invite him, but dost thou think he'll come?"--"Why shouldn't he?" asked her husband. "Now, thank God, we have everything we want. He wouldn't come to us when we were poor and he was rich, because then he was ashamed to say that I was his brother, but now even he hasn't got so much as we have."

So they made ready, and the man went to invite his brother. The poor man came to his rich brother and said, "Hail to thee, brother; God help thee!"--Now the rich brother was threshing wheat on his threshing-floor, and, raising his head, was surprised to see his brother there, and said to him haughtily, "I thank thee. Hail to thee also! Sit down, my brother, and tell us why thou hast come hither."--"Thanks, my brother, I do not want to sit down. I have come hither to invite thee to us, thee and thy wife."--"Wherefore?" asked the rich brother.--The poor man said, "My wife prays thee, and I pray thee also, to come and dine with us of thy courtesy."--"Good!" replied the rich brother, smiling secretly. "I will come whatever thy dinner may be."

So the rich man went with his wife to the poor man, and already from afar they perceived that the poor man had grown rich. And the poor man rejoiced greatly when he saw his rich brother in his house. And his tongue was loosened, and he began to show him everything, whatsoever he possessed. The rich man was amazed that things were going so well with his brother, and asked him how he had managed to get on so. But the poor man answered, "Don't ask me, brother. I have more to show thee yet." Then he took him to his copper money, and said, "There are my oats, brother!" Then he took and showed him his silver money, and said, "That's the sort of barley I thresh on my threshing-floor!" And, last of all, he took him to his gold money, and said, "There, my dear brother, is the best wheat I've got."--Then the rich brother shook his head, not once nor twice, and marvelled at the sight of so many good things, and he said, "Wherever didst thou pick up all this, my brother?"--"Oh! I've more than that to show thee yet. Just be so good as to sit down on that chair, and I'll show and tell thee everything."

Then they sat them down, and the poor man hung up his sack upon a peg. "Sack, sack, meat and drink!" he cried, and immediately the table was covered with all manner of dishes. So they ate and ate, till they were full up to the ears. When they had eaten and drunken their fill, the poor man called to his son to bring the little ram into the hut. So the lad brought in the ram, and the rich brother wondered what they were going to do with it. Then the poor man said, "Little ram, scatter money!" And the little ram scattered money, till there were piles and piles of it on the floor. "Pick it up!" said the poor man to the rich man and his wife. So they picked it up, and the rich brother and his wife marvelled, and the brother said, "Thou hast a very nice piece of goods there, brother. If I had only something like that I should lack nothing;" then, after thinking a long time, he said, "Sell it to me, my brother."--"No," said the poor man, "I will not sell it."--After a little time, however, the rich brother said again, "Come now! I'll give thee for it six yoke of oxen, and a plough, and a harrow, and a hay-fork, and I'll give thee besides, lots of corn to sow, thus thou wilt have plenty, but give me the ram and the sack." So at last they exchanged. The rich man took the sack and the ram, and the poor man took the oxen and went out to the plough.

Then the poor brother went out ploughing all day, but he neither watered his oxen nor gave them anything to eat. And next day the poor brother again went out to his oxen, but found them rolling on their sides on the ground. He began to pull and tug at them, but they didn't get up. Then he began to beat them with a stick, but they uttered not a sound. The man was surprised to find them fit for nothing, and off he ran to his brother, not forgetting to take with him his drum with the henchmen.

When the poor brother came to the rich brother's, he lost no time in crossing his threshold, and said, "Hail, my brother!"--"Good health to thee also!" replied the rich man, "why hast thou come hither? Has thy plough broken, or thy oxen failed thee? Perchance thou hast watered them with foul water, so that their blood is stagnant, and their flesh inflamed?"--"The murrain take 'em if I know thy meaning!" cried the poor brother. "All that I know is that I thwacked 'em till my arms ached, and they wouldn't stir, and not a single grunt did they give; till I was so angry that I spat at them, and came to tell thee. Give me back my sack and my ram, I say, and take back thy oxen, for they won't listen to me!"--"What! take them back!" roared the rich brother. "Dost think I only made the exchange for a single day? No, I gave them to thee once and for all, and now thou wouldst rip the whole thing up like a goat at the fair. I have no doubt thou hast neither watered them nor fed them, and that is why they won't stand up."--"I didn't know," said the poor man, "that oxen needed water and food."--"Didn't know!" screeched the rich man, in a mighty rage, and taking the poor brother by the hand, he led him away from the hut. "Go away," said he, "and never come back here again, or I'll have thee hanged on a gallows!"--"Ah! what a big gentleman we are!" said the poor brother; "just thou give me back my own, and then I will go away."--"Thou hadst better not stop here," said the rich brother; "come, stir thy stumps, thou pagan! Go home ere I beat thee!"--"Don't say that," replied the poor man, "but give me back my ram and my sack, and then I _will_ go."--At this the rich brother quite lost his temper, and cried to his wife and children, "Why do you stand staring like that? Can't you come and help me to pitch this insolent rogue out of the house?" This, however, was something beyond a joke, so the poor brother called to his henchmen, "Henchmen, henchmen! out of the drum, and give this brother of mine and his wife a sound drubbing, that they may think twice about it another time before they pitch a poor brother out of their hut!" Then the henchmen leaped out of the drum, and laid hold of the rich brother and his wife, and trounced them soundly, until the rich brother yelled with all his might, "Oh, oh! my own true brother, take what thou wilt, only let me off alive!" whereupon the poor brother cried to his henchmen, "Henchmen, henchmen! into the drum!" and the henchmen disappeared immediately.

Then the poor brother took his ram and his sack, and set off home with them. And they lived happily ever after, and grew richer and richer. They sowed neither wheat nor barley, and yet they had lots and lots to eat. And I was there, and drank mead and beer. What my mouth couldn't hold ran down my beard. For you, there's a _kazka_, but there be fat hearth-cakes for me the asker. And if I have aught to eat, thou shalt share the treat.

THE VOICES AT THE WINDOW

A nobleman went hunting one autumn, and with him went a goodly train of huntsmen. All day long they hunted and hunted, and at the end of the day they had caught nothing. At last dark night overtook them. It had now grown bitterly cold, and the rain began to fall heavily. The nobleman was wet to the skin, and his teeth chattered. He rubbed his hands together and cried, "Oh, had we but a warm hut, and a white bed, and soft bread, and sour kvas,[7] we should have naught to complain of, but would tell tales and feign fables till dawn of day!" Immediately there shone a light in the depths of the forest. They hastened up to it, and lo! there was a hut. They entered, and on the table lay bread and a jug of kvas; and the hut was warm, and the bed therein was white--everything just as the nobleman had desired it. So they all entered after him, and said grace, and had supper, and laid them down to sleep.

[7] A sourish drink.

They all slept, all but one, but to him slumber would not come. About midnight he heard a strange noise, and something came to the window and said, "Oh, thou son of a dog! thou didst say, 'If we had but a warm hut, and a white bed, and soft bread, and sour kvas, we should have naught to complain of, but would tell tales and feign fables till dawn'; but now thou hast forgotten thy fine promise! Wherefore this shall befall thee on thy way home. Thou shalt fall in with an apple-tree full of apples, and thou shalt desire to taste of them, and when thou hast tasted thereof thou shalt burst. And if any of these thy huntsmen hear this thing and tell thee of it, that man shall become stone to the knee!" All this that huntsman heard, and he thought, "Woe is me!"

And about the second cockcrow something else came to the window and said, "Oh, thou son of a dog! thou didst say, 'If we had but a warm hut, and a white bed, and soft bread, and sour kvas, we should have naught to complain of, but would tell tales and feign fables till dawn'; but now thou hast forgotten thy fine promises! Wherefore this shall befall thee on thy way home. Thou shalt come upon a spring by the roadside, a spring of pure water, and thou shalt desire to drink of it, and when thou hast drunk thereof thou shalt burst. But if any of these thy huntsmen hear and tell thee of this thing, he shall become stone to the girdle." All this that huntsman heard, and he thought to himself, "Woe is me!"

Again, toward the third cockcrow, he heard something else coming to the window, and it said, "Oh, thou son of a dog! thou didst say, 'If only we had a warm hut, and a white bed, and soft bread, and sour kvas, we should have naught to complain of, but would tell tales and feign fables till dawn'; but now thou hast forgotten all thy fine promises! Wherefore this shall befall thee on thy way home. Thou shalt come upon a feather-bed in the highway; a longing for rest shall come over thee, and thou wilt lie down on it, and the moment thou liest down thereon thou shalt burst. But if any of thy huntsmen hear this thing and tell it thee, he shall become stone up to the neck!" All this that huntsman heard, and then he awoke his comrades and said, "It is time to depart!"--"Let us go then," said the nobleman.

So on they went, and they had not gone very far when they saw an apple-tree growing by the wayside, and on it were apples so beautiful that words cannot describe them. The nobleman felt that he must taste of these apples or die; but the wakeful huntsman rushed up and cut down the apple-tree, whereupon apples and apple-tree turned to ashes. But the huntsman galloped on before and hid himself.

They went on a little farther till they came to a spring, and the water of that spring was so pure and clear that words cannot describe it. Then the nobleman felt that he must drink of that water or die; but the huntsman rushed up and splashed in the spring with his sword, and immediately the water turned to blood. The nobleman was wrath, and cried, "Cut me down that son of a dog!" But the huntsman rode on in front and hid himself.

They went on still farther till they came upon a golden bed in the highway, full of white feathers so soft and cosy that words cannot describe it. The nobleman felt that he must rest in that bed or die. Then the huntsman rushed up and struck the bed with his sword, and it turned to coal. But the nobleman was very wrath, and cried, "Shoot me down that son of a dog!" But the huntsman rode on before and hid himself.

When they got home the nobleman commanded them to bring the huntsman before him. "What hast thou done, thou son of Satan?" he cried. "I must needs slay thee!" But the huntsman said, "My master, bid them bring hither into the courtyard an old mare fit for naught but the knacker." They brought the mare, and he mounted it and said, "My master, last midnight something came beneath the window and said, 'Oh, son of a dog! thou saidst, "If only we had a warm hut, and a white bed, and soft bread, and sour kvas, we should grieve no more, but tell tales and feign fables till dawn," and now thou hast forgotten thy promise. Wherefore this shall befall thee on thy way home: thou shalt come upon an apple-tree covered with apples by the wayside, and straightway thou shalt long to eat of them, and the moment thou tastest thereof thou shalt burst. And if any of thy huntsmen hears this thing, and tells thee of it, he shall become stone up to the knee.'" When the huntsman had spoken so far, the horse on which he sat became stone up to the knee. Then he went on, "About the second cockcrow something else came to the window and said the selfsame thing, and prophesied, 'He shall come upon a spring by the roadside, a spring of pure water, and he shall long to drink thereof, and the moment he tastes of it he shall burst; and whoever hears and tells him of this thing shall become stone right up to the girdle.'" And when the huntsman had spoken so far, the horse on which he sat became stone right up to the breast. And he continued, and said, "About the third cockcrow something else came to the window and said the selfsame thing, and added, 'This shall befall thy lord on his way home. He shall come upon a white bed on the road, and he shall desire to rest upon it, and the moment he rests upon it he shall burst; and whoever hears and tells him of this thing shall become stone right up to the neck!'" And with these words he leaped from the horse, and the horse became stone right up to its neck. "That therefore, my master, was why I did what I did, and I pray thee pardon me."

THE STORY OF LITTLE TSAR NOVISHNY, THE FALSE SISTER, AND THE FAITHFUL BEASTS

Once upon a time, in a certain kingdom, in a certain empire, there dwelt a certain Tsar who had never had a child. One day this Tsar went to the bazaar (such a bazaar as we have at Kherson) to buy food for his needs. For though he was a Tsar, he had a mean and churlish soul, and used always to do his own marketing, and so now, too, he bought a little salt fish and went home with it. On his way homeward, a great thirst suddenly fell upon him, so he turned aside into a lonely mountain where he knew, as his father had known before him, there was a spring of crystal-clear water. He was so very thirsty that he flung himself down headlong by this spring without first crossing himself, wherefore that Accursed One, Satan, immediately had power over him, and caught him by the beard. The Tsar sprang back in terror, and cried, "Let me go!" But the Accursed One held him all the tighter. "Nay, I will not let thee go!" cried he. Then the Tsar began to entreat him piteously. "Ask what thou wilt of me," said he, "only let me go."--"Give me, then," said the Accursed One, "something that thou hast in the house, and then I'll let thee go!"--"Let me see, what have I got?" said the Tsar. "Oh, I know. I've got eight horses at home, the like of which I have seen nowhere else, and I'll immediately bid my equerry bring them to thee to this spring--take them."--"I _won't_ have them!" cried the Accursed One, and he held him still more tightly by the beard. "Well, then, hearken now!" cried the Tsar. "I have eight oxen. They have never yet gone a-ploughing for me, or done a day's work. I'll have them brought hither. I'll feast my eyes on them once more, and then I'll have them driven into thy steppes--take them."--"No, that won't do either!" said the Accursed One. The Tsar went over, one by one, all the most precious things he had at home, but the Accursed One said "No!" all along, and pulled him more and more tightly by the beard. When the Tsar saw that the Accursed One would take none of all these things, he said to him at last, "Look now! I have a wife so lovely that the like of her is not to be found in the whole world, take her and let me go!"--"No!" replied the Accursed One, "I will not have her." The Tsar was in great straits. "What am I to do now?" thought he. "I have offered him my lovely wife, who is the very choicest of my chattels, and he won't have her!"--Then said the Accursed One, "Promise me what thou shalt find awaiting thee at home, and I'll let thee go."

The Tsar gladly promised this, for he could think of naught else that he had, and then the Accursed One let him go.

But while he had been away from home, there had been born to him a Tsarevko[8] and a Tsarivna; and they grew up not by the day, or even by the hour, but by the minute: never were known such fine children. And his wife saw him coming from afar, and went out to meet him, with her two children, with great joy. But he, the moment he saw them, burst into tears. "Nay, my dear love," cried she, "wherefore dost thou burst into tears? Or art thou so delighted that such children have been born unto thee that thou canst not find thy voice for tears of joy?"--And he answered her, "My darling wife, on my way back from the bazaar I was athirst, and turned toward a mountain known of old to my father and me, and it seemed to me as though there were a spring of water there, though the water was very near dried up. But looking closer, I saw that it was quite full; so I bethought me that I would drink thereof, and I leaned over, when lo! that Evil-wanton (I mean the Devil) caught me by the beard and would not let me go. I begged and prayed, but still he held me tight. 'Give me,' said he, 'what thou hast at home, or I'll never let thee go!'--And I said to him, 'Lo! now, I have horses.'--'I don't want thy horses!' said he.--'I have oxen,' I said.--'I don't want thine oxen!' said he.--'I have,' said I, 'a wife so fair that the like of her is not to be found in God's fair world; take her, but let me go.'--'I don't want thy fair wife!' said he.--Then I promised him what I should find at home when I got there, for I never thought that God had blessed me so. Come now, my darling wife! and let us bury them both lest he take them!"--"Nay, nay! my dear husband, we had better hide them somewhere. Let us dig a ditch by our hut--just under the gables!" (For there were no lordly mansions in those days, and the Tsars dwelt in peasants' huts.) So they dug a ditch right under the gables, and put their children inside it, and gave them provision of bread and water. Then they covered it up and smoothed it down, and turned into their own little hut.

[8] A little Tsar.

Presently the serpent (for the Accursed One had changed himself into a serpent) came flying up in search of the children. He raged up and down outside the hut--but there was nothing to be seen. At last he cried out to the stove, "Stove, stove, where has the Tsar hidden his children?"--The stove replied, "The Tsar has been a good master to me; he has put lots of warm fuel inside me; I hold to him."--So, finding he could get nothing out of the stove, he cried to the hearth-broom, "Hearth-broom, hearth-broom, where has the Tsar hidden his children?"--But the hearth-broom answered, "The Tsar has always been a good master to me, for he always cleans the warm grate with me; I hold to him." So the Accursed One could get nothing out of the hearth-broom.--Then he cried to the hatchet, "Hatchet, hatchet, where has the Tsar hidden his children?"--The hatchet replied, "The Tsar has always been a good master to me. He chops his wood with me, and gives me a place to lie down in; so I'll not have him disturbed."--Then the Devil cried to the gimlet, "Gimlet, gimlet, where has the Tsar hidden his children?"--But the gimlet replied, "The Tsar has always been a good master to me. He drills little holes with me, and then lets me rest; so I'll let him rest too."--Then the serpent said to the gimlet, "So the Tsar's a good master to thee, eh! Well, I can only say that if he's the good master thou sayest he is, I am rather surprised that he knocks thee on the head so much with a hammer."--"Well, that's true," said the gimlet, "I never thought of that. Thou mayst take hold of me if thou wilt, and draw me out of the top of the hut, near the front gable; and wherever I fall into the marshy ground, there set to work and dig with me!"

The Devil did so, and began digging at the spot where the gimlet fell out on the marshy ground till he had dug out the children. Now, as they had been growing all along, they were children no more, but a stately youth and a fair damsel; and the serpent took them up and carried them off. But they were big and heavy, so he soon got tired and lay down to rest, and presently fell asleep. Then the Tsarivna sat down on his head, and the Tsarevko sat down beside her, till a horse came running up. The horse ran right up to them and said, "Hail! little Tsar Novishny; art thou here by thy leave or against thy leave?"--And the little Tsar Novishny replied, "Nay, little nag! we are here against our leave, not by our leave."--"Then sit on my back!" said the horse, "and I'll carry you off!" So they got on his back, for the serpent was asleep all the time. Then the horse galloped off with them; and he galloped far, far away. Presently the serpent awoke, looked all round him, and could see nothing till he had got up out of the reeds in which he lay, when he saw them in the far distance, and gave chase. He soon caught them up; and little Tsar Novishny said to the horse, "Oh! little nag, how hot it is. It is all up with thee and us!" And, in truth, the horse's tail was already singed to a coal, for the serpent was hard behind them, blazing like fire. The horse perceived that he could do no more, so he gave one last wriggle and died; but they, poor things, were left alive. "Whom have you been listening to?" said the serpent as he flew up to them. "Don't you know that I only am your father and tsar, and have the right to carry you away?"--"Oh, dear daddy! we'll never listen to anybody else again!"--"Well, I'll forgive you this time," said the serpent; "but mind you never do it again."

Again the serpent took them up and carried them off. Presently he grew tired and again lay down to rest, and nodded off. Then the Tsarivna sat down on his head, and the Tsarevko sat down beside her, till a humble-bee came flying up. "Hail, little Tsar Novishny!" cried the humble-bee.--"Hail, little humble-bee!" said the little Tsar.--"Say, friends, are you here by your leave or against your leave?"--"Alas! little humble-bumble-bee, 'tis not with my leave I have been brought hither, but against my leave, as thou mayst see for thyself."--"Then sit on my back," said the bee, "and I'll carry you away."--"But, dear little humble-bumble-bee, if a horse couldn't save us, how will you?"--"I cannot tell till I try," said the humble-bee. "But if I cannot save you, I'll let you fall."--"Well, then," said the little Tsar, "we'll try. For we two must perish in any case, but thou perhaps mayst get off scot-free." So they embraced each other, sat on the humble-bee, and off they went. When the serpent awoke he missed them, and raising his head above the reeds and rushes, saw them flying far away, and set off after them at full speed. "Alas! little humble-bumble-bee," cried little Tsar Novishny, "how burning hot 'tis getting. We shall all three perish!" Then the humble-bee turned his wing and shook them off. They fell to the earth, and he flew away. Then the serpent came flying up and fell upon them with open jaws. "Ah-ha!" cried he, with a snort, "you've come to grief again, eh? Didn't I tell you to listen to nobody but me!" Then they fell to weeping and entreating, "We'll listen to you alone and to nobody else!" and they wept and entreated so much that at last he forgave them.