Part 2

The old woman who was Surya Bai’s mother looked out of the window, and when she saw the Rajah there, she was very much frightened. She took Surya Bai and hid her behind a heap of milk cans, for she feared if the Rajah saw the girl he might begin to ask questions and find how the mango had dropped into the can.

After the girl was hidden, the old woman opened the door.

“I wish to see the stranger who is living here with you, and who is so beautiful, and is dressed like a Ranee,” said the Rajah.

“I do not know what you mean,” cried the old woman. “No one lives here but me and my husband and children.”

(This was true, only the old woman did not know it.)

The Rajah questioned her, but she would make no other answer, and when he went through the house, he could see no one except the woman’s husband, who was very much frightened, and the children she had spoken of.

Then the young Rajah went away, very sorrowful, but still he could not help wondering whether the peasant had deceived him. So he sent for the old woman who had been Surya Bai’s companion, and who was in prison.

“I wish you to go to such and such a place,” said he, “and make friends with the peasant woman who lives there. Then, after you are friends, find out, if you can, whether a stranger has been living with her, and if so, who she is.”

The old attendant did as the Rajah bade her. It did not take long for her to make friends with the peasant woman, and one day the old peasant allowed her to see the strange lady who was living with her.

At once the attendant knew the stranger to be the lost Ranee, and she fell down and kissed her feet, and wept over her.

Then she told the old peasant the whole story. She told her of how Surya Bai had lived with the eagles, and how the Rajah had found her and made her his wife, and how she had then disappeared, and how the Rajah had mourned for her and sought her.

When the old peasant heard this story, she was filled with wonder and with joy, for she knew then that Surya Bai was no other than the little daughter who had been carried away by the eagles.

She could now no longer refuse to let the Rajah see Surya Bai, and he was sent for. When he came and saw his dear wife as well and as beautiful as ever, he could hardly contain himself for happiness. He took her in his arms, and wept over her and kissed her, and no sooner had he kissed her than her powers of speech came back, and she was no longer dumb.

Then she told him the story of what had happened to her, and of how she had been pushed into the tank, and how she had come to be where she was.

The Rajah was very angry. He took Surya Bai back to the palace with him, and the wicked old Ranee was shut up in a tower where she was very miserable all the rest of her life, but the peasants and their children were raised to great wealth and honor, and Surya Bai and the Rajah lived happy forever after.

THE PRINCES AND THE FRIENDLY ANIMALS

A LITHUANIAN STORY

There was once a King who had three sons, and he had also a stepdaughter. They all lived together in peace and happiness and had everything their hearts could desire. But after a time an enemy of the King came against him with a great army, and slew him, and took the kingdom and drove forth the Princes into the world, and their stepsister with them.

The three and the one journeyed on and on together until they came to a deep forest, and there they saw a mother bear, and her three cubs were with her.

The eldest Prince was about to shoot at her, but the bear cried out, “Do not shoot, Prince, and I will give you my three cubs for servants, one for you, and one for each of your brothers.”

To this the Prince agreed. He let the bear go away unharmed, and the three cubs followed after the three Princes, each one behind his own master.

After they had gone a bit farther into the forest, they saw a lioness, and she also had three young ones with her.

Now it was the second Prince who was about to shoot, but the lioness called to him, “Do not slay me, Prince, and I will give my three cubs to you and your brothers, one to each of you.”

Thereupon the Prince allowed her to go unharmed and the three young lions followed after the Princes with the bear cubs.

Soon after that they saw a mother fox, and three little ones were with her. This time it was the youngest Prince who would have shot, but the fox called to him, imploring him to spare her life and offering instead her three young ones to the Princes.

She too was allowed to escape, and now each Prince had a young fox, a young lion and a young bear to follow him.

After that the Princes met a hare and a boar, and these animals were also allowed to go unharmed because they each gave a young one to each one of the Princes to follow after and serve him.

And now the Princes came to a place where the road divided.

“I,” said the youngest, “shall take the road toward the East, where the sun rises each morning.”

“And I,” said the second, “shall journey toward the West, where it is golden at sunset.”

But the eldest Prince would take neither of these roads. “My way shall be neither toward the East nor toward the West,” said he, “but straight ahead, and when I come to a place to dwell in, there will I stop.”

The three brothers then asked their stepsister which of them she would follow, and she said she would go with the eldest Prince, for she too wished nothing better than a place to dwell in, where she could live in peace and safety.

So the three brothers parted, but first the eldest Prince cut three notches in a tree that stood at the parting of the ways. He cut one at the East, and one at the West, and one in the center between them, one for each of his brothers, and one for himself.

He told them the notch to the East was for the youngest brother, the notch to the West was for the second brother, and the one in the center belonged to himself.

“When any one of us returns to this spot,” said he, “let him place his finger first upon one notch, and then upon the other. If milk flows forth from the notch, then all is well with the one to whom it belongs, but if blood flows forth, then it means death or misfortune to that one.”

After that they bade each other farewell and set forth, each on his own way, and each with his animals following after him, and the stepsister went with the eldest brother, as she had chosen.

For a long time the eldest Prince and his sister journeyed on without seeing any one, but toward evening they came to a house and there was a red light shining out from the window. When they looked inside they saw a band of robbers sitting there, counting the gold they had taken from the people they had killed.

The stepsister was so frightened that her teeth chattered in her head, and she was for going farther, but the Prince said no. “Hither we have come, and here we shall stop,” said he.

Then he called his animals to him and threw open the door of the house.

When the robbers saw him, they started up and seized their weapons to slay him, but they had no time, for the faithful animals flew at them and tore them almost to pieces, so that they were dead, all except one; and he lay there with the others as though he had been killed also.

Then the Prince threw them down into the cellar and locked the door, and he and his stepsister got out food and drink and feasted to their hearts’ content, and the animals feasted also.

The next morning the Prince went out hunting and he told his stepsister she might go all over the house and look at everything in it; only into the cellar she must not look, for there the robbers were lying, and that door must remain fastened.

After he had gone, the girl went about through the house and looked at everything. After she had seen all there was to be seen in the house, she began to think about the cellar, and more and more she wished to open the door and look at the robbers lying there.

At last she could resist no longer. She unfastened the door and looked down into the cellar. As soon as she did so, the robber who was only wounded lifted his head and spoke to her.

The girl was terribly frightened, and was for shutting the door at once, but the robber called to her so piteously that she could but stay and listen to him.

“Do not fear me,” cried the robber. “Even if I desired it, I am too weak to harm you, but I wish you only good.”

The robber then told her that if she would do as he said, he would soon be well and strong again. Then they would rid themselves of her brother and would be married, and the house and all the wealth that had been gathered would belong to their own two selves alone, and they would be very happy together.

The girl listened; and the longer she listened, the more the plan of the robber pleased her. She asked him what she must do to heal him.

“You must go into the kitchen and look in the cupboard,” said the robber. “There you will find three flasks. Make haste and bring them here. In the first is an ointment. Rub it upon my wounds, and at once they will heal themselves. Hold the second flask to my lips, and all pain will leave me. Give me to drink from the third, and I will be perfectly well again and stronger than ever.”

The girl did as the robber told her, and all happened as he had said. Then, after his wounds were healed and he was well again, he and the girl consulted as to how they could get rid of her brother.

“This is how it can be managed,” said the robber. “You shall ask your brother how strong he is, and then, as a test of his strength you shall say you will tie his thumbs behind him with a cord, and he shall try if he can break it. If he cannot break it, then he will be helpless, and you must call to me, and I will come and slay him.”

This plan pleased the girl, and at once she agreed to it.

That evening, when her brother came home, they sat at the table and ate and drank together, but the animals were left outside in the courtyard with the door locked and barred against them.

After supper, the stepsister began to talk to her brother and to question him as to how strong he was.

“I am so strong,” replied the Prince, “that there are few bonds that could hold me.”

“Suppose, I were to tie your thumbs together behind your back with a silken cord, could you break it?” asked the sister.

The Prince bade her try, and he put his hands behind him, and she tied his thumbs together with a silken cord the robber had given her. But no sooner did the Prince strain with his thumbs against the cord than it snapped in two and dropped from him.

“Sister, you must bind me with something stouter than the cord if you would hold me,” said the brother.

The next day the Prince went hunting again, and as soon as he had gone, the girl went down to the cellar to talk to the robber. “You must give me something stronger than that to bind him with,” said the stepsister. “He broke the cord as though it were no more than a spider’s web.”

The robber gave her a cord twice as strong.

“Now see if that will hold him,” said he.

When the Prince came home that evening and he and the girl sat together at supper, she again began to talk of his strength.

“Here is a cord that is twice as strong as the other. If I tied your thumbs together behind your back, could you break this also?” she asked of him.

The brother told her to try. She tied his thumbs together as before with the second cord the robber had given her, but he snapped this also in two the moment he strained against it.

“Sister, you will need a stronger cord than that if you would hold me,” said he.

The next day, as soon as the brother had left the house, the stepsister hastened down to talk again with the robber.

“It is of no use,” said she. “He snaps the cords as easily as though there were nothing to them. To-night I will tie his thumbs together with my girdle, and if he can break that, as he did the cords, then there is nothing that will hold him.”

To this the robber agreed, so the next day, when the Prince came home, the girl asked him to let her once more tie his thumbs behind his back. “And this time,” said she, “I will tie them with my girdle.”

The lad put his hands behind him and the girl tied the thumbs together with her girdle. And now, though the Prince strained against it with all his power, he could not break it.

“Sister,” said he, laughing. “You will have to untie it, for now indeed I am held prisoner.”

“Then it is as I would have it,” cried the girl, and she threw open the cellar door and called to the robber to come forth and slay him.

No sooner did the Prince see the robber than he knew the trick that had been played against him.

“I am indeed helpless,” said he, “and if I must die, I must. But one little favor I would ask of you before I perish. Give me leave to blow three blasts upon my hunting-horn, and I will ask nothing else of you.”

That seemed a harmless favor for the Prince to ask, and neither the robber nor the girl refused him. Still they would not untie the girdle. The stepsister held the horn to his mouth, and the Prince blew upon it so strong and loud that the girl and the robber were like to have been deafened by it. Three times he blew. The first blast woke the animals where they lay sleeping, and they raised their heads and listened. At the second blast they aroused themselves and gathered at the door of the house; and at the third blast they threw themselves against the door so that locks and bars were broken, and the wood itself was splintered. Then in a moment they rushed into the room and sprang upon the robber and tore him into shreds.

They would have torn the stepsister to pieces, too, but this the Prince would not permit. “I will not kill you,” said he to the girl, “but you shall be punished.”

He then took a chain and fastened it around her waist and to a staple in the wall. He placed food and drink within reach and an empty bowl before her. “When you have filled this bowl full of tears of repentance, the chain will drop from you,” he said, “and you will be free; but until that time you shall remain a prisoner.”

He then went away and left her, and the animals followed at his heels.

He went on and on until he came to another country, and there he stopped at an inn for food and rest. But there was little feasting at the inn, or resting either. Every one was weeping and lamenting. The food had burned on the fire, and the malt had all run out of the barrels and was wasted.

The Prince called to the landlord and asked him the cause of all this sorrow.

“A sad and grievous cause, indeed,” replied the landlord. “This day the King’s daughter is to be sacrificed to a mighty dragon that is to come up out of the water. She must be left on the seashore over beyond the cliffs you see yonder, for him to devour her; and unless this is done, the dragon will ravage the whole country.”

“But is there no one strong enough and brave enough to destroy this dragon?” asked the Prince.

“There is no one. Many have come hither to try it, for the King has promised that if any one will do battle with the dragon and destroy him, he shall have the hand of the Princess in marriage, and she is so beautiful, that any man might well risk death to gain her. But every one who has seen the dragon as he lies out in the sea has been so filled with terror that he has fled away. Not one has stayed even to look upon him twice.”

When the Prince heard this he made up his mind that he would at least have a look at the dragon, so he asked the landlord how he must go to reach the place where the monster lay. As soon as he had been told, off he set in that direction, and the animals were not far behind him.

It did not take him long to reach the seashore and when he looked off across the water he could see the dragon lying there. He was so long that his back looked like an island, and from his nostrils rose up streams of smoke that were full of fiery cinders.

The Prince hid himself behind a heap of rocks and lay there watching, and presently he heard a great noise. It was made by a procession of people who were bringing the Princess down to the seashore. She was very beautiful, but so sad looking that the Prince’s heart melted within him for pity of her.

They brought her to the seashore and left her there, and every one went away except two nobles of the Court. One of them was driving the coach that brought the Princess, and the other one sat beside him as footman. They were to wait until all was over, and then they were to take the news back to the King, but they kept the coach high up on top of the cliff where they would be out of danger.

The Prince waited until all the others had left her, and then he came out from behind the rocks and went to speak to the Princess; but when she saw him she was frightened, for she did not know who he was nor whence he came.

“Do not fear me,” the Prince said to her. “I mean you no harm, but instead I have come hither to do battle with the dragon, and if it may be, to save you.”

When the Princess heard this, she begged and implored him to leave her. “Why should you perish also? None can ever do battle with yonder monster and come out alive.”

But the Prince would not listen to her.

And now the dragon bestirred itself and turned and came slowly toward the shore, and as it came they could smell the smoke of its breathing.

The Prince drew his sword and stood waiting for it. Then as it came still nearer, the fox sprang out on a rock, dipped his tail in the salty water and slashed it across the eyes of the monster so that it was almost blinded. The lion and the bear also splashed up the water; the boar ripped at the dragon with his sharp tusks; the hare sprang upon its head and struck with its paws; and the Prince drew his sword and plunged it into the monster’s heart, so that the life blood ran out from it into the sea, and it was dead.

Then he went to the Princess, and they kissed each other on the lips, and she gave him the half of her handkerchief and the half of her ring to show that they were true lovers. He also took the tongue and the ears of the dragon, and then they went back to the coach where it was waiting on the cliff, and the Princess bade the nobleman drive them to the palace of the King, that she and the Prince might be married as her father had promised.

But on the way, the two noblemen talked together.

“Why should we drive this stranger to the palace?” said they. “No one knows who he is or whence he comes. Let us slay him, and then we will draw lots as to which of us shall claim the Princess.”

So that was what they did. They made the Prince step down from the coach and slew him, and they made the Princess swear that she would tell no one that it was not they who had killed the dragon. Then they drew lots as to which should marry her, and the lot fell to the coachman.

But after they had driven on and left the Prince lying there, the faithful animals did not desert him. They stayed beside him and mourned over him, and the lion licked his face and hands, but it could not revive him.

Then the fox, which was very clever, reminded the animals of the flasks of ointment and healing water in the robbers’ house.

The hare, which was very swift, said it would go and fetch the flasks, and it sped away to get them.

Now the stepsister had wept the bowl full of tears of repentance and was free again; and when the hare came to the door and told her what it wanted, she gladly gave it the flasks and hung them about its neck in a little wicker basket.

Then the hare fled back again to where the animals were waiting beside the Prince. With its tusks the boar broke the flask that held the ointment, and the bear rubbed it on the Prince’s wounds so that they were healed. Then they poured some drops from the second bottle between his lips, and the color came back to his cheeks and the light to his eyes. When they gave him to drink from the third bottle, he became quite well again and stronger than ever.

After that he rose and set out to follow the Princess. But the way was long, and before he reached the palace, night overtook him, and he had no place to sleep. He was about to make a bed among the grasses when he saw, not far in front of him, the light of a fire. He went on toward it, and as he came nearer, he saw an old, old woman standing beside it and

cooking her supper in a pot. She was so old that her chin and nose almost met, and so skinny she was scarcely more than bones, and the eyes under her brows were red and evil.

“Good evening, mother,” said the Prince.

“Good evening, son,” replied the woman.

“May I and my animals warm ourselves beside the fire?” asked the Prince.

“As for yourself, you’re welcome,” said the old woman; “but as for your animals, I am afraid of them. Just let me give each one of them a little blow with my staff to show them I’m mistress, and then they may rest by the fire also.”

The Prince did not say no, so the old woman took up her staff and with it she quickly touched one animal after the other, beginning with the lion and ending with the hare, and as soon as she touched them, each one was turned into a stone figure, for the old woman was a witch and as wicked as she was ugly. Then she touched the Prince with her staff, and he also became a stone image without life or motion.

Then the old hag laughed with glee and counted them over. They were not the only ones she had either. All about were other stones that had once been living beings.

Now some time after this, the second Prince, who had traveled far and was weary of journeying, came back to the branching road where the tree stood with its notches, and he wished to see how his brothers were faring.

He touched the notch that belonged to the youngest Prince, and milk flowed out from it. So he knew all was well with his youngest brother. Then he touched the notch that belonged to the eldest Prince, and forth from that flowed blood. Then he was grieved to the heart because he knew death or disaster must have come upon his brother.

“Now will I set forth in search of him,” said he, “and never will I stop nor stay until I find what has become of him and whether I can give him succor.”

So the second Prince journeyed on and on, along the road his eldest brother had gone before him, and it was not long until he came to the place where the old woman was tending her fire. All about in the shadows stood figures of stone, some big and some little, but the Prince did not think to look at them.

He asked if he and his animals might rest a bit beside the fire and warm themselves.

“You yourself are welcome,” said the old woman, “but I fear that your animals, may tear at me or eat me.” She then asked the Prince’s permission to touch each animal with her rod, that it might know her as its mistress. “Then I will no longer fear them,” said she.

The Prince was willing, so she took the rod that leaned against a tree near by and struck the animals lightly, first one and then another, and as she touched them, they were turned to stone. Last of all she touched the Prince, and he too became a stone image.

Then the old hag laughed aloud for joy of her wickedness, and put aside her rod once more, and went on with her cooking.

Now it happened that not so very long after this the youngest Prince, who had journeyed far and wide in his wanderings, began to think of his two brothers and to wonder how it had gone with them in the world.

So he came back to the place where the three roads parted, and the tree stood with the three notches in it.