Part 2

The queen’s wish was carried out. The poor lad, who was thought to be the queen’s brother, was put in a fine coffin, and laid on a magnificent catafalque in the church. When night came on a guard of honour was placed around the coffin and at the gates to watch till morning. Towards midnight the doors of the church opened of their own accord and without any noise, and, at the same moment, an irresistible drowsiness came over the soldiers, who all went to sleep. A pretty little wild duck entered, stopped in the middle of the church, shook its feathers, of which it freed itself one by one, and there stood the orphan girl in her former shape. She approached the coffin of her brother, and shed very many tears over him, which all changed to pearls. After she had wept for some time, she reassumed the feathers once more, and went out. When the guards awoke, great was their surprise to find a number of beautiful pearls on the coffin. The next day they told the king how the gates of the church had opened of themselves at midnight, how an irresistible desire to sleep had overtaken them, and how the pearls had been discovered upon the coffin. The king was surprised at their story, and more so when he saw the pearls. He doubled the guard, and told them to watch more carefully the second night.

At the same time the doors opened again of themselves, and the soldiers again fell asleep. The wild duck entered, shook off its feathers, and became the lovely girl. At the sight of the double guard, all of them fast asleep, she could not help laughing, and beautiful roses fell from her lips. As she approached her brother her tears broke forth and fell in a shower of pearls to the ground. At length she took her feathers again and flew away. When the guards awoke they collected the roses and pearls and took them to the king, who was now more surprised than before, seeing not only the pearls but the roses also. He again doubled the guards, and he threatened them with the most severe punishment if they did not keep awake. They did their best, but all was of no use. At the end of their nap on the third night they found not only pearls and roses, but also golden fish swimming in the church font. The king was now very much astonished, and began to think that there must be some magic in the matter. When night came on he again doubled the number of the guards, and hid himself in the chapel, after having put up a mirror in which he could see everything reflected without being himself seen.

At midnight the doors opened of themselves, the soldiers dropt their arms, lay down on the ground, and fell fast asleep. The king did not take his eyes off the mirror, and he saw a little wild duck enter, and look timidly around it. When it saw the guards all asleep it seemed to take courage, and came into the middle of the church. Then it cast off its feathers and became a girl of extraordinary loveliness. The king was transported with joy and wonder, and felt that this must be his true bride. When she had come to the coffin the king rushed forward with a wax taper in his hand and set fire to the feathers, the flame leaping up and waking the guards. When the girl saw what was done she ran to the king wringing her hands, while pearls dropped from her eyes.

“What have you done?” she cried. “How shall I now escape the fury of my step-mother, by whose magic arts I was turned into a wild duck?”

Then she told the king all, and he at once ordered some of his guards to seize the woman who had so treacherously married him, and to conduct her out of the kingdom. He also sent some soldiers to take the step-mother and burn her as a sorceress. While the king gave these orders the girl took from her bosom three little vessels, which she had brought with her from the sea, full of different liquids. She sprinkled the liquid in one of them over her brother, and he became supple and warm; his cheeks took their colour again, and the warm red blood began to run from his wound. His sister sprinkled him again with the second liquid, which had the property of healing, and his wound at once closed. She sprinkled him the third time with the water which had the property of calling back to life. The young man opened his eyes, looked on his sister with astonishment, and threw himself, full of happiness, into her arms.

At the sight of this the king was overjoyed. He took the young man by the hand, and, leading his sister, the three went to the palace.

In a short time he married his true bride, and he lived happily with her and her brother for many years.

SNYEGURKA.

THERE was once upon a time a peasant named Ivan, who had a wife named Mary. They had been married many years, and loved one another, but they had no children, and this caused them so much sorrow that they could find no pleasure but in watching the children of their neighbours. What could they do? Heaven had willed it so. Things in this world do not go as we wish, but as Heaven ordains.

One day, in the winter, the children played about in the road and the two old folk looked on, sitting in the window seat. At last the children began to make a beautiful snow figure. Ivan and Mary looked on enjoying it.

All of a sudden Ivan said—

“Wife, suppose we make a snow figure?”

Mary was ready.

“Why not?” said she; “we might as well amuse ourselves a little. But what is the use of making a big figure? Better make a snow-child, since God has not given us a living one.”

“You are right,” said Ivan, and he took his hat and went out into the garden with his wife.

So they set to work to make a snow-child. They fashioned a little body, little hands, and little feet, and when all that was done they rolled a snow-ball and shaped it into a head.

“Heaven bless you!” cried a passer-by.

“Thanks,” replied Ivan.

“The help of Heaven is always good,” said Mary.

“What are you doing?” asked the stranger.

“Look,” said Ivan.

“We are making a snow-girl,” said Mary.

On the ball of snow which stood for a head they made the nose and the chin. Then they put two little holes for the eyes. As Ivan finished the work, oh, wonderful! the figure became alive! He felt a warm breath come from its lips. Ivan drew back, and looked. The child had sparkling eyes, and there was a smile upon its lips.

“Heavens! what is this?” cried Ivan, making the sign of the cross.

The snow figure bent its head as if it was alive, and stirred its little arms and legs in the snow as if it was a real child.

“Ivan! Ivan!” cried Mary, trembling with joy, “Heaven has heard our prayers,” and she threw herself on the child and covered her with kisses. The snow fell away from the little girl like the shell from a chicken.

“Ah, my dear Snyegurka!” cried Mary, embracing the long wished for and unexpected child, and she carried her off into the cottage.

Ivan had much to do to recover himself, he was so surprised, and Mary was foolish with joy.

Snyegurka grew hour by hour, and became more and more beautiful. Ivan and Mary were overjoyed, and their hut was full of life and merriment. The village girls were always there playing with Snyegurka, dressing her, chattering with her, singing songs to her, teaching her all they knew. Snyegurka was very clever; she noticed everything, and learnt things quickly. During that winter she grew as big as a three-year-old child. She understood things, and when she spoke her voice was so sweet that one could have listened to it for ever. She was amiable, obedient, and affectionate. Her skin was white, her hair the colour of flax, and her eyes deep blue; her cheeks, however, had no rosy flush in them, for she had no blood, but she was so good and so amiable that every one loved her.

“You see,” said Mary, “what joy has Heaven given us in our old age.”

“Heaven be thanked,” responded Ivan.

At last the winter was ended, and the spring sun shone down and warmed the earth. The snow melted, the green grass sprang up in the fields, and the lark sang high up in the sky. The village girls went singing—

“Sweet spring, how did you come to us? How did you come? Did you come on a plough, or on a harrow?”

Snyegurka, however, became very sad. “What is the matter with you, my dear child?” said Mary, drawing her to her and caressing her. “Are you not well? You are not merry. Has an evil eye glanced on you?”

“No,” answered Snyegurka; “it is nothing, mother. I am quite well.”

The last snow of the winter had melted and disappeared. Flowers sprang up in all the gardens and fields. In the woods the nightingale and all the birds sang, and all the world seemed very happy save Snyegurka, who became more and more sad. She would run away from her companions, and hide herself from the sun in dark nooks, like a timid flower under the trees. She liked nothing save playing by the water-side under the green willows. She seemed to enjoy only the cool and the shower. At night-time she was happy; and when a good storm occurred, a fierce hail-storm, she was as pleased with the drops as if they had been pearls. When the sun broke forth again—when the hail was melted—then Snyegurka began to weep bitterly.

The spring was ended, the summer came, and the feast of Saint John was at hand. The girls were going to play in the woods, and they called for Snyegurka to go with them.

Mary was afraid to let her go, but she thought that the outing might do her child good, so she got her ready, embraced her, and said—

“Go, my child, and play with your friends; and you, my daughters, look well after her. You know I love her better than the apple of my eye.”

“All right,” cried they all, and they ran off in a body to the woods.

There they plucked the wild-flowers, made themselves wreaths, and sang songs.

When the sun was setting they made a fire of dry grass and placed themselves in a row by it, each of them having a crown of flowers on her head. “Look at us,” said they to Snyegurka, “how we run, and follow us,” and then they began to sing and to jump, around and over the little fire.

All of a sudden they heard, behind them, a sigh—

“Ah!”

They looked about them, and then at one another. There was nothing to be seen. They looked again, and found that Snyegurka was no longer among them.

“She has hidden herself,” cried they. Then they looked for her, but could not find her, calling out and shouting her name, but there was no answer.

“Where can she be? She must have gone home,” said they.

They ran back to the village, but there no one had seen Snyegurka. All the folk searched during the next day and the day following. They went through all the woods, they looked through every thicket, but no trace of the child was discovered.

Ivan and Mary were inconsolable, and for a long time did the poor mother seek her child in the woods, crying—

“Snyegurka, my sweet, come to me.”

Sometimes she thought she could hear the voice of her child replying to her; but no, it was not Snyegurka.

“What could have become of her?” folk asked one another; “can a wild beast have carried her off into the woods? Has some bird of prey flown off with her?”

No beast had carried her off, nor had a bird flown away with her. When she began to run with her companions she suddenly changed into a light vapour, and was carried up to heaven.

PRINCE PETER AND PRINCESS MAGILENE.

IN the kingdom of France there was once a high-born prince named Volchvan who married a noble lady named Petronida. They had one son, who was called Peter. This Prince Peter in his youth was very fond of horsemanship and of war, and when he grew up he thought of nothing but knightly deeds. Now it chanced that just at that time there arrived a knight named Ruiganduis, who had come from Naples, and he, seeing the Prince’s disposition, said to him, “Prince Peter, the King of Naples has a beautiful daughter named Magilene, and he bestows great rewards on the knights who by their deeds do honour to her.”

Peter, when he heard that, went to his father and mother, and begged them to let him go to Naples to learn knightly arts, and, especially, to see the beautiful Magilene, the daughter of the King.

They parted with Prince Peter with great sorrow, and bade him only make friends of good folk. Then they gave him three gold rings with precious stones, and also a golden key. So they sent him off.

When Prince Peter came to Naples he went to a clever workman, and ordered him to make him a coat of mail, and a helmet to match, and told him to fasten to it two golden keys. When he had done this he rode away to the place where the tournaments were held, where he found the King. The folk called Peter, Peter with the Golden Keys, and off he went and placed himself among the knights. First of all there rode out the Knight Andrei Skrintor, and against him appeared the son of the King of England. Andrei dealt Henry such a blow, that he was nearly thrown off his horse. Then Landiot, the King’s son, came forth and threw Andrei off his horse on to the ground.

When Prince Peter saw that Landiot had thrown Andrei from his saddle, he rode out and cried aloud—

“Long may their Majesties live in happiness, the King, the Queen, and their beautiful daughter, the Princess Magilene.”

He rode at Landiot with such force that his horse rolled on the ground and the spear went through his heart. This deed won for him the praise of the King and of all the knights, but especially that of the Princess Magilene, and Prince Peter became the first of all the King’s knights.

Now when the beautiful Princess saw how brave and handsome Prince Peter was she fell in love with him, and resolved to marry him. She made a confidante of her maid, and from that time Prince Peter used to see the Princess daily. He gave her the three golden rings as a mark of his true love, and one day, taking her with him, rode away from the city.

They rode off on their good horse, taking much gold and silver with them, and they continued their journey all night. At length they came to a thick forest which stretched far away to the seashore. There they stopped to rest, and the Princess, lying down on the grass, fell fast asleep. Prince Peter sat by her side and watched her, and as he looked at her he saw a locket having a golden fastening. He opened it and out fell the three gold rings he had given to her. The Prince put them on the grass, and, as it chanced, a black raven flew by at the moment, seized the rings, and took them off into a tree. Peter climbed up the tree, hoping to catch the bird; but as he was about to seize it, the raven flew into another tree, and so from tree to tree till at last it went away over the sea to an island, letting the rings fall into the water.

Prince Peter followed the bird, and, having come to the seashore, he looked about him for a boat in which he could pursue it to the island. At length he set off in a small fishing-boat, but as he had no oars he paddled along with his hands. All of a sudden, as he was on his way, there came on a storm of wind which carried him away to the open sea. When the Prince saw he was far from the shore he thought he was lost, and he prayed with groans and tears.

“Alas! I am the most miserable and unfortunate of all men,” said he. “Why did I not leave the rings in the locket where they were safe? No one in the world is so unfortunate as I, for I have lost my happiness. I have led the Princess away, and have left her in the thick forest, where wild beasts will tear her in pieces, or she will wander about till she dies of hunger. I am her destroyer, and have spilt innocent blood!” He then began to sink in the sea.

As it chanced, a vessel came by, bound from Turkey, and when the sailors saw a man floating on the sea, they took him on board, and, carrying him away to Alexandria, they sold him to a Turkish Pasha, who sent him off as a present to the Sultan. When the Sultan saw how good his behaviour was, and how agreeable he was, he made him one of his counsellors, and his honesty and his good nature won him the love of all who came in contact with him.

When the Princess awoke she found herself in the thick forest. She looked on every side, and when she could not see Prince Peter, she was much distressed, and sank down upon the ground. Then she went into the wood, and called with all her strength—

“My dear husband, Prince Peter, where are you?”

She wandered on a long way until she met a nun, with whom she exchanged clothes, putting on the nun’s dark garments and giving her her own light-coloured dress. Then she went on to a port, where she went on board a vessel which was about to sail to the country over which Prince Peter’s father ruled. When she came there she went to live with a noble lady named Susanna, and, finding a place among the mountains, she made a harbour, built a convent there named after the apostles Peter and Paul, and there she also founded a hospital for strangers. So she became famous for her pious works. One day the father and mother of Prince Peter came to her and brought to her three rings. They told her that their cook had purchased a fish in which the rings had been found. These rings they had given to their son Peter, and they therefore concluded that he had been drowned, and they wept bitterly.

Now when Peter had been with the Sultan a long time, he wished to visit his own land, and the Sultan gave him his leave to go, loading him, at the same time, with presents of gold, silver, and magnificent pearls. Having taken leave of the Sultan, the Prince went and hired a French vessel, bought fourteen casks, put salt at the bottom of them, laid the gold and silver in the casks, scattered more salt on the top of the treasure, and told the sailors that there was nothing but salt in the casks. The wind was favourable, and they set off for the Prince’s land, and, having arrived at an island not far off the coast of France, they weighed anchor, for the Prince was very sea-sick. He went upon shore and wandered about in the island till he lost his way, and being tired he lay down and went to sleep. He slept a long time, and the sailors sought him and called him everywhere, but as they could not find him they set sail. They came to the Princess’s convent, and there they sold the salt. Now one day when salt was wanted Magilene went to the casks and was very much surprised to find in them all the treasure.

Prince Peter was picked up by another vessel and came likewise to the convent. There he was in Magilene’s hospital for a month, but all that time he did not recognise the Princess, for her black veil hid her features from him. While he was there he wept every day.

One day as Magilene came into the hospital she saw the Prince weeping, and she asked him why he did so, and he told her all his misfortunes. Magilene then recognised him, and sent off to his father and mother to tell them that their son was come back. When they came to the convent they found the Princess arrayed in her royal garments; and when the Prince saw his parents he fell at their feet, embraced them and wept, while they wept with him. At length he stood up, and, taking them by the hand, kissed them, and said—

“My father and my mother, this lady is the daughter of the great King of Naples on account of whom I left you.”

So they were married, and they lived in great happiness.

THE OLD MAN, HIS WIFE, AND THE FISH.

THERE once lived in a hut on the shores of the Isle of Buyan an old man and his wife. They were very poor. The old man used to go to the sea daily to fish, and they only just managed to live on what he caught. One day he let down his net and drew it in. It seemed to be very heavy. He dragged and dragged, and at last got it to shore. There he found that he had caught one little fish of a kind he had never before seen—a golden fish.

The fish spoke to him in a man’s voice. “Do not keep me, old man,” it said; “let me go once more free in the sea and I will reward you for it, for whatever you wish I will do.”

The old man thought for a while. Then he said, “Well, I don’t want you. Go into the sea again,” and he threw the fish into the water and went home.

“Well,” said his wife, when he got home, “what have you caught to-day?”

“Only one little fish,” said the man, “a golden fish, and that I let go again, it begged so hard. ‘Put me in the blue sea again,’ it said, ‘and I will reward you, for whatever you wish I will do.’ So I let it go, and did not ask anything.”

“Ah, you old fool!” said the wife in a great rage, “what an opportunity you have lost. You might, at least, have asked the fish to give us some bread. We have scarce a crust in the house.”

The old woman grumbled so much that her husband could have no quiet, so to please her off he went to the seashore, and there he cried out—

“Little fish, little fish, come now to me, Your tail in the water, your head out of sea!”

The fish came to the shore.

“Well, what do you want, old man?” it asked.

“My wife,” said the man, “is in a great passion, and has sent me to ask for bread.”

“Very well,” said the fish, “go home and you shall have it.”

The old man went back, and when he entered the hut he found bread in plenty.

“Well,” said he to his wife, “we have enough bread now.”

“Oh yes!” said she, “but I have had such a misfortune while you were away. I have broken the bucket. What shall I do the washing in now? Go to the fish, and ask it to give us a new bucket.”

Away went the man. Standing on the shore he called out—

“Little fish, little fish, come now to me, Your tail in the water, your head out of sea!”

The fish soon made its appearance.

“Well, old man,” it said, “what do you want?”

“My wife,” said the man, “has had a misfortune, and has broken our bucket. So I have come to ask for a new one.”

“Very well,” said the fish, “you shall find one at home.”

The old man went back. As soon as he got home his wife said to him—

“Be off to the golden fish again, and ask it to give us a new hut. Ours is all coming to pieces. We have scarcely a roof over our heads.”

The old man once more came to the shore, and cried—

“Little fish, little fish, come now to me, Your tail in the water, your head out of sea!”

The fish came.

“Well, what is it?” asked the fish.

“My wife,” said the man, “is in a very bad temper, and has sent me to ask you to build us a new cottage. She says she cannot live any longer in our present one.”

“Oh, do not be troubled about that,” said the fish. “Go home. You shall have what you want.”

The old man went back again, and in the place of his miserable hovel he found a new hut built of oak and nicely ornamented. The old man was delighted, but as soon as he went in his wife set on him, saying—

“What an idiot you are! You do not know how to take good fortune when it is offered to you. You think you have done a great thing just because you have got a new hut. Be off again to the golden fish, and tell it I will not be a mere peasant’s wife any longer. I will be an Archduchess, with plenty of servants, and set the fashion.”

The old man went to the golden fish.

“What is it?” asked the fish.

“My wife will not let me rest,” replied the man; “she wants now to be an Archduchess, and is not content with being my wife.”

“Well, it shall be as she wishes. Go home again,” said the fish.

Away went the man. How astonished was he, when, on coming to where his house had stood, he now found a fine mansion, three stories high. Servants crowded the hall, and cooks were busy in the kitchens. On a seat in a fine room sat the man’s wife, dressed in robes shining with gold and silver, and giving orders.

“Good day, wife!” said the man.