Chapter VI: Polish-Gypsy Stories (2)

Thereafter he disrobed him deftly, and made him lie down on the bed.

‘Come you to bed, brother,’ said the nobleman’s son.

‘I don’t feel sleepy,’ replied the young Jew.

‘Well, I’m going to sleep at any rate.’

He placed himself beside the table, this young Jew, and pretended to fall asleep. Two ladies approached the young Jew, but they were not really ladies—they were fairies. [109] These ladies spoke thus to one another, ‘Oh! this young Jew and this nobleman’s son are going to a capital, where they wish to carry away the king’s daughter. But,’ said they, ‘the young Jew did well to pick up that wand with the little key, for there will be an iron door, which with that key he will be able to open.’

These ladies went away with the help of God. The young Jew undressed himself and went to bed. They arose next morning; they came to that iron door; the young Jew dismounted and opened it. They see that this is the capital wherein dwells the princess. They went into this town; they see a gentleman passing. The young Jew asks him, ‘Where is there a first-rate inn in this place?’ The gentleman indicated such a one to them, and guided them to it. He paid him for his trouble. They ate until they were satisfied. The nobleman’s son remained in the inn, and the young Jew sallied out into the town. He saw a gentleman passing.

‘Stay, sir, I have something to ask of you.’

The gentleman stopped, and the young Jew asked him, ‘Where is the principal goldsmith’s in this town?’

He directed him there; the young Jew went to this goldsmith.

‘Will you make me an old hen and her chickens of gold? The old hen must have eyes of diamonds and the young chickens also.’

‘Very well.’

‘But I stipulate further that she be alive.’

The goldsmith, who was a great wizard, replied, ‘Very good, sir; I will do so if you will pay me.’

‘I will pay you as much as ten thousand.’

Three days later he returned to get what he had ordered. He chose a Sunday, at the time when the princess was going to church. It was then he proposed to exhibit this golden hen and her chickens in such a way that the princess should see them. Well, he went to the goldsmith’s; he got the golden hen with her young chickens. On the following Sunday, he went near the church, this young Jew; he placed a table there, and on it he exposed his golden hen with the young chicks. Nobody who passed that way thought any more about going to church, but all stopped to gaze with wonder at this golden hen with her young chickens. A throng of people gathered from all parts of the town to see this hen and her chickens. The priest himself does not go into the church, but stops before the hen and her chickens; he looks at them so greedily that his eyes are almost starting out of his head. At last the king’s daughter comes to church. She looks to see what is going on there. A crowd of people, gentle and simple, gathered together. She had four lackeys with her.

‘Go,’ she said to one of them, ‘see what is going on there.’

He went and did not return.

She sent a second one; no more did he come back, so much was he enchanted. She despatched a third; neither did that one return—he was charmed. She sent the fourth, and he returned not either, being enchanted like the others.

‘What can have happened there?’ she asked herself. ‘Has somebody been killed?’

She sent her maid, who forced her way with difficulty among the people; but she also came not back, so much did this golden hen delight her. Another was sent, who with great difficulty forced a passage through the crowd, but she too returned not, so charmed was she. She despatched her third maid-servant, who also penetrated the throng, but, being charmed, did not return. Finally she said to the fourth one, ‘I am sending you to see what is happening there; but if you do not come back to tell me, I will have you put to death.’

This one too went. She forced her way after much difficulty through the crowd, but she came not back out of it, so greatly had that golden hen charmed her.

The princess then said to herself, ‘What can be going on there? Here, I’ve sent eight persons, and not one of them has come back to tell me what’s the matter.’

Then she went herself to see what had happened. Peasants and gentlemen gave way before her. She draws near and sees—a golden hen with her young chickens. The Jew lad perceives her and asks her, ‘Does this give pleasure to your royal highness?’

‘Greatly though it pleases me, sir,’ she answered, ‘you will not give it to me.’

He took this hen and presented it to the princess; then, with the help of the good God, he went away. But the princess called after him, and invited him to dine at her father’s. The young Jew returned to the inn, where the nobleman’s son was asleep. He knew nothing of what the young Jew had done. The king sent a very fine carriage to fetch the young Jew; he got into it and drove off. The princess was amusing herself with the hen and its young golden chickens. The king proposed to him that he should live with his daughter.

‘Very well,’ said the young Jew to him. ‘I will live with her.’

Well, they eat, they drink, and at length towards night the young Jew sent some one to fetch the nobleman’s son. When he arrived, all three went out to walk in the garden. Then the young Jew said to the princess, ‘Will you go away from here with us?’

‘Yes, I will go away,’ she replied.

They set out with her and hurried away, with the help of the good God. The father of the princess knew not where she had gone to; neither did he know whence the young Jew and the nobleman’s son had come. The nobleman’s son arrived at his father’s house. The father and mother are well satisfied that he has been so successful in bringing home the princess.

‘And now, my son,’ said his father to him, ‘you must marry her.’

So he married her, and they live together with the help of God. The young Jew has also married a wife, and they live together with the help of God.

Obviously an incomplete story; for of the beautiful wand the young
Jew makes no use at all, of the key very little. It offers
analogies to ‘Baldpate’ (No. 2), to ‘The Dead Man’s Gratitude’ (No.
1), and to Miklosich’s Bukowina-Gypsy story of ‘The Rivals.’ The
last may be summarised thus:—

An emperor’s daughter on her brow had the sun, on her breast the
moon, on her back the stars. An old lady had a sow with twelve
little golden pigs; and her servant tended them. He goes into the
forest and grazes them along the road, and on three successive days
the princess gets a little pig by revealing to him her birth-marks.
The emperor makes proclamation for them to come and guess her
birth-marks. A prince, who is in love with her and knows her marks,
guesses them; so too does the swineherd. So the emperor shuts up
the three of them in a room. ‘And the boy bought himself bread and
sweet apples and sweet cakes, and put them in his bosom. And the
prince lay with the girl in his arms, and the boy at her back. The
princess was hungry. The boy was eating cakes. She asked him, “What
are you eating, boy?” “I am eating my lips.” “Give me some.” And he
gave to her. “God! how sweet.” And the prince said, “Mine are
sweeter.” And he took his knife, and cut off his lips, and gave
them to her. She flung them on the ground. Again the boy was eating
apples. “What are you eating now, boy?” “I am eating my nose.”
“Give me some.” He gave her. “God! how delicious.” And the prince,
“Mine is sweeter.” He took his knife and cut off his nose, and gave
it to her. She flung it on the ground. The boy eats bread. “What
are you eating now, boy?” “I am eating my ears.” “Give me some.” He
gave to her. “God! how delicious.” And the prince, “Mine are
sweeter.” He took his knife, cut off his ears, and gave them to
her. She flung them on the ground. By daybreak the prince was dead;
the girl was all over blood from him, and she shoved his corpse on
the ground, and took the boy in her arms. And the emperor came and
found the two locked in an embrace. Straightway the emperor clad
him, and joined them in marriage.’

Denton’s ‘The Shepherd and the King’s Daughter,’ in Serbian
Folklore, p. 172, is closely akin to Miklosich’s story over the
first six pages, but is probably Bowdlerised. Cf. too, ‘The
Emperor’s Daughter and the Swineherd,’ in Krauss’s Sagen und
Märchen der Südslaven, ii. 302; and Hahn, ii. 180. Mr. David
MacRitchie suggested in the Gypsy Lore Journal (ii. 381) that by
the golden hen and her chickens in the Polish-Gypsy story is to be
understood a planetarium of the Pleiades, the popular Roumanian
name for the Pleiades being ‘the golden hen with her golden
chickens.’ The suggestion is most ingenious; but in Laura
Gonzenbach’s Sicilian story, ‘Vom Re Porco’ (No. 42, i. 291–293)
the true bride purchases permission from the false bride to pass
three nights with the bridegroom with the contents of three
nuts—(1) a golden hen with many golden chickens; (2) a little
golden schoolmistress, with little golden pupils, who sew and
embroider; and (3) a lovely golden eagle. Cf. also Hahn, i. 188.

NO. 49.—THE GOLDEN BIRD AND THE GOOD HARE

Once upon a time there was a king who had three sons, two wise and one foolish. This king had an apple-tree which bore golden apples; but every night some one robbed him of these apples. The king inflicted severe punishment on his servants.

One time his eldest son said to him, ‘Father, I am going to watch the golden apple-tree, and if I do not catch the thief you shall kill me.’

‘Very well; go, then.’

He went to stand guard, but in the night-time a golden bird came and stole a golden apple from the tree.

Next day the king arose, and asked of his son, ‘Have you caught the thief?’ The king counted the apples on the tree: one of them was missing. ‘Well,’ said he to his son, ‘you shall be put to death.’

The notables of the kingdom, and everybody, prayed that he would pardon him. The king pardoned him.

Then the other brother said to the king, ‘Father, I also will go and keep watch; it may be that I shall seize the thief.’

‘Very well; then go.’

He made his preparations, and went on guard. The golden bird came once more and stole an apple from the tree.

Next day the king arose and asked of his son, ‘Have you caught the thief?’

‘No, father, I have not caught him, for he has escaped me.’

‘Did you see him, then?’

‘Yes, I saw him.’

‘Well, then, how was he able to escape you? You shall be killed.’

Then the queen and all the nobles entreated him. He pardoned this other son.

The king returned to his house.

Then the third brother, the fool, came to beg him that he would allow him to go and guard the golden apple-tree. ‘Father,’ said he, ‘it must be that I shall catch this thief.’

‘Go, then, fool that thou art,’ replied the king; ‘your wise brothers have kept watch, and could not take him; and you, what will you do, fool?’

‘Never mind, father, wise though my brothers may be, they knew not how to secure the thief. I, who am a fool, shall know better than they how to capture him.’

‘Very well; then, go. But you shall be put to death if you do not take him.’

‘Very well, father, I agree to it that you kill me; but if I do secure the thief, it is I who am to kill you.’

‘Very well, I shall not seek to excuse myself.’

He made his preparations. He went to keep watch. He climbed up into the tree to watch there. He stuck a needle into a twig, and leant his chin upon it.

‘Whenever I feel sleepy,’ said he to himself, ‘the needle will prick me, and I shall be aroused.’

Just at daybreak he saw a golden bird come, intending to steal one of the golden apples. He perceived this, and, firing at the bird, knocked out three feathers of gold. These he picked up and kept in his hand.

He got up in the morning and went to his father, who asked him, ‘Have you seized the thief? What have you taken from him?’

‘I have blown off a piece of his shirt with a musket-shot.’

Then said the king to him, ‘Now you may kill me.’

‘Father, I grant you your life.’

He showed him the three golden feathers, whereupon his father became blind, so dazzled was he by the terrible gleam.

‘What shall we do now, unfortunates that we are?’

The eldest brother said to his father, ‘I am going in quest of this bird.’

‘Well, go, my son; have a care of me.’

He took plenty of money with him and a beautiful horse. He set out in quest of this bird. He went away far out into the world. Once he saw a fine inn. He went in. He ordered something to eat and drink. He hears, this son of the king, that they are wrangling in the next room. He looks through the keyhole and sees twelve young ladies playing at cards. He gently opens the door a little, and these damsels call to him, ‘Come away, sir, and play with us.’

He goes in, and he loses all his money at play. He sells his horse, and loses that money too. He sells his clothes, and still loses. Lastly, he asks these damsels to lend him a hundred florins. They lend them to him, and he loses the hundred florins.

‘What shall I do now, pauper that I am?’

These damsels have him arrested and put into prison. For six months he sees no one, this eldest brother.

Then his younger brother made his preparations, and requested his father to let him go in quest of the golden bird.

His father said to him, ‘Each of you goes away, and none returns. Very well, go.’

He took even more money than his brother and a finer horse. He set out, and came to the same inn. He makes them serve him with something to eat and drink. He hears people wrangling in the next room. He opens the door a little, and sees twelve damsels playing at cards.

‘Come away, sir, and play with us.’

He sits down to play, and loses all his money. He sells his horse for a large sum, which he loses in the same way. He sells his clothes, and loses likewise. Lastly, he borrows a hundred florins from the twelve damsels, and loses them also.

‘What shall I do now, pauper that I am?’

These damsels have him arrested and put into prison.

Then the king says, ‘See, it is full six months since my two sons set out, and neither of them has returned.’

Then the fool, the youngest brother, wishes to go in quest of this bird. He requests his father to let him go and seek the golden bird.

‘Well, go, my boy. Fool though you are, perhaps you will bring this bird to me sooner than your two wise brothers, who set out and return not.’

So he made his preparations. He set out without money, without anything save two bottles of wine, but he set out with the help of God. After a very long journey he came to a small wood. In this wood he saw a lame hare, which fled away from him. He would have killed this hare, but it besought him, ‘Have the fear of God; do not kill me. For I know where you are going, and I will tell it to you.’

‘That is well,’ replied this foolish prince; and he dismounted from his horse. He drew a fine loaf out of his pocket, and gave it to the hare to eat. For himself, he drank some of his wine, and said to this hare, ‘If I gave you wine too, you would certainly not drink any of it?’

‘Why should I not drink any of it, my lord?’ replied the hare; ‘you have only to give me some.’

Well, he gave him some. The hare drank of it, and thanked him courteously. Then the foolish prince asked him, ‘What was that you said to me just now?’

‘I will tell you that you are going in quest of the golden bird, three of whose feathers you knocked out with a musket-shot. You showed them to your father, who has consequently become blind.’

‘Yes, that is so.’

‘But listen: there will be various birds; there will be a cage of diamonds, a cage of gold, a cage of silver, and a cage of wood. In the first there will be a diamond bird, in the second a golden bird, in the third a silver bird, and in the fourth a miserable, common bird. Beware of taking one of the birds with a beautiful cage, or it will bring misfortune on you. Now, get on my back, and leave your horse to graze in this forest.’

He mounted the hare, and on arriving at the place where these birds were he dismounted. Then said the hare to him again, ‘For God’s sake, beware of touching a bird with a beautiful cage, but take the one in a common cage.’

Well, then, he goes in to steal, and he sees that there are three miserable cages. ‘Why,’ said he, ‘should I take one of these, when I can take a bird with a beautiful cage?’ He then espied a cage of diamonds with a diamond bird in it. He approached it. He would have taken it, when suddenly these wretched birds uttered a terrible scream. The warders came running up, and secured the prince. Next day the king questioned him, ‘Why have you come here?’

‘I came, sire, to take the bird that robbed me of the golden apples.’

‘Listen, then. You shall have that bird provided you do this for me. There is a certain king who has a silver horse. Steal that horse from him and bring it to me, and I will give you the bird.’

‘Very well.’

The fool came to his hare, and began to lament. The hare said to him, ‘Didn’t I tell you not to touch the bird in the fine cage, but to take the bird in the common cage? Well, be silent; come with me without mounting me. And listen: there will be beautiful horses of gold and silver. Don’t touch them, but take that miserable horse beside the door.’

Well, he went. He sees such beautiful horses, one all gold, the other silver. He looks at them, and says to himself, ‘Why should I take that wretched horse, when I can take the golden one?’ He tries to mount the golden horse, when they all neigh terribly loud, and he was arrested.

On the morrow the king arose and questioned him, ‘What do you want here?’

‘I came, sire, to steal your silver horse, because that other king said to me that if I bring him your silver steed, he will give me his golden bird.’

‘Well, I will give it to you myself if you will accomplish this feat: Our third king has a daughter with locks of gold. If you will carry her off, and bring her to me, then I will give you my silver steed.’

‘Very well.’

He came back to his hare. ‘Why, then, won’t you do what I tell you?’ said the hare to him, and would have beaten him. ‘Come, then, with me, but do not get on my back. You will go to where this princess dwells; you will eat with her; you will drink with her; finally, you will sleep with her. Then I shall come during the night and carry you both away.’

Well, he came to where the princess lived. He ate, he drank, and he slept with her. The hare got up during the night, and carried them both away. They set out, and by the time it was day they had gone a great distance.

‘Where am I?’ asked the princess.

The hare told her, ‘You will be the wife of this prince.’

She was quite content to have such a young and handsome husband.

Then said the foolish prince, ‘Well, we have already got the princess with the golden locks, but how are we going to manage to steal the silver steed and the golden bird?’

‘Oh!’ replied the hare, ‘that is my affair, and I shall answer for it.’

They remained, then, in that place, and the hare set out alone. He went to where that king lived, and he stole from him that same wretched horse that was beside the door. He mounted it and came back to the fool. The latter sees such a beautiful silver horse. He is enchanted that the hare had succeeded in stealing it. He mounts the princess on this horse, and they continued their journey with the help of God. They reach the home of the third king, who had the golden bird. The hare stole from him the miserable bird in the wretched cage. (Neither the birds nor the horses uttered a single cry.) The hare returned to the fool. He is perfectly delighted on seeing a golden bird in a golden cage. They go on their way. They set out with the help of God, and they come to that forest where they had left their horse. The prince mounted it.

Before his departure the hare said to him, ‘I forbid you to ransom your two brothers from death.’ The prince swore that he would not. He and the princess returned thanks to the good hare who had brought them away. They set out and arrived at his father’s house. He presents the golden bird to his father, who thereupon recovered his sight. His father is charmed at his son bringing him his wife with the golden locks and a silver steed. He marries her, and lives with her five years.

Once it occurred to this fool that he ought to go in search of his two brothers.

‘Do not go, my son,’ said his father, ‘let God punish them.’

‘Permit me to do so, father; I will go and seek them.’

His father objected, but he besought him incessantly, till at last he allowed him to go. He came to a very large town. What does he see there? His two brothers. They were just being led to death. He came to the place, this fool, and he would have ransomed them from death, but the nobles would not have it. He offered an enormous sum, but they would not accept it.

‘If you will not, I can but go home.’

He came home, and he said to his father, ‘Alas! father, my brothers are now dead.’

‘Since they did not obey me,’ replied his father, ‘it is right that God should punish them.’

This youngest prince dwells with his wife, and they live with the help of the good, golden God.

This opens like a Bulgarian story, ‘The Golden Apples and the Nine
Peahens,’ No. 38 of Wratislaw’s Sixty Slavonic Folk-tales, p. 186,
also somewhat like the Roumanian-Gypsy tale of ‘The Red King and
the Witch’ (No. 14). Laura Gonzenbach’s Sicilian story, No. 51,
‘Vom singenden Dudelsack,’ may also be compared. But it is
essentially identical with our Scottish-Tinker story of ‘The Fox’
(No. 75), and with Wratislaw’s Serbian story of ‘The Lame Fox,’ No.
40, pp. 205–217, with Grimm’s No. 57, ‘The Golden Bird’ (i. 227,
415), and with Campbell of Islay’s No. 46, ‘Mac Iain Direach,’ on
which see Reinhold Köhler in Orient und Occident, ii. 1864, pp.
685–6. Kopernicki’s Gypsy story is plainly very defective. The lame
hare should first meet the two elder brothers, and his stealing the
steed and the bird is as lame as himself. The concluding phrase,
‘golden God,’ occurs often in Hungarian and in Slovak-Gypsy
stories; so I am inclined to question Kopernicki’s footnote that
‘“with the help of God” (or “of the good God”), a phrase frequently
occurring in the Polish-Gypsy stories is borrowed from the popular
speech of Poland.’ Dja Devlésa, ‘go with God,’ is of constant
occurrence in Turkish-Romani (Paspati, p. 205), and in most, if not
all, of the other European Gypsy dialects.

NO. 50.—THE WITCH

There was once a nobleman who had a very handsome son. The nobleman wished that his son should marry, but there was nobody whom he would wed. Young ladies of every kind were assembled, but not one of them would he have. For ten years he lived with his father. Once in a dream he bethought himself that he should go and travel. He went away far out into the world; and for ten years he was absent from his home. He reflected, and ‘What shall I do?’ he asked himself; ‘I will return to my father.’ He returned home in rags, and all lean with wretchedness, so that his father was ashamed of him. He remained with him three months.

Once he dreamt that in the middle of a field there was a lovely sheet of water, and that in this little lake three beautiful damsels were bathing. Next morning he arose and said to his father, ‘Rest you here with the help of the good God, my father; for I am going afar into the world.’

His father gave him much money, and said to him, ‘If you do not wish to stay with me, go forth with the help of God.’

He set out on his way; he came to this little lake; and there he saw three beautiful damsels bathing. He would have captured one of them, but these damsels had wings on their smocks, by means of which they soared into the air and escaped him. He went away, this nobleman’s son, and said he to himself, ‘What shall I do now, poor wretch that I am?’ and he began to weep bitterly.

Then he sees an old man approaching him, and this old man asks him, ‘Why do you weep, my lad?’

‘Oh! well do I know why I weep: there are three lovely damsels who bathe in that lake, but I cannot capture them.’

‘What do you want, then?’ asks this old man. ‘Would you catch the whole three of them?’

‘No,’ he replied, ‘I wish to catch only one of them, the youngest one.’

‘Very well, then, listen: I am going to dig a pit for you; whenever you see them coming for a swim, hide yourself in this hole, and wait there in silence. As soon as they have laid down their clothes, jump up and seize hold of the smock belonging to the youngest one. She will beg you to give it up to her, but do not give it up.’

Well, these three damsels came; they took off their smocks, and laid each of them aside. The nobleman’s son watched them from his pit; he jumped out; he seized hold of the smock belonging to the youngest one. She beseeches him to give it back to her, but he will not consent to do so. The two other sisters fly away with the good God, and he returns to his home with the young damsel. His father sees that he brings a beautiful damsel with him. Well, he marries her. They live together for five years. They had a very pretty young son. But as for the winged smock he had a special room made, into which he locked it, and the key of the room he gave to his mother to take care of. Madman that he was! He would have done better had he burned that smock.

One day he went out into the fields. Then his wife spoke thus to his mother, ‘Mother, five years now have I been here, and I know not what there is in my husband’s room, because he always keeps it hidden from me.’

Then the mother said to her, ‘Well, come with me; I am going to show it to you.’

‘That is right, mother. I wish it much, because he ought not to hide anything from me, for I would not rob him of anything, to hand it over to the lads.’

She went into that room with his mother; she sees that her smock with the two wings is there.

‘Mother,’ she said, ‘may I again don this smock, to see whether I am as beautiful still as I was once?’

‘Very well, my daughter, put it on again; I do not forbid you.’

She put on the smock, and she said to his mother, ‘Remain here with the help of the good God, my mother; salute my husband for me; and take good care of my child. For never more will you see me.’

Then she sped away with the good God, and returned home to the witch, her mother.

Her husband came back to the house and asked his mother, ‘Where has my wife gone?’

‘My son, she went into that room there; she once more put on a certain smock; she sent you a farewell greeting; and she asked me to take care of her child, for never more would she see us.’

‘Well, I am going away in quest of her.’

He took a lot of money with him, he set out, and journeyed forth with the help of the good God. He came to a miller’s house. The miller had a mill, where they ground corn for this witch. Well, the nobleman’s son asked this miller to hide him in a sack, to cover him with meal, and to fasten him securely into the sack.

‘I will pay you for this service,’ said he to the miller.

Well, as soon as he had hidden him in the sack and fastened it, four devils came. Each of them took a sack; but the first of these, the one in which the nobleman’s son was concealed, was very heavy. This devil took the sack; he threw it upon his back; he set out on his road, and went away with the good God (sic!). They went to the abode of the witch and laid down their sacks.

The next day there was to be a wedding there. Who should happen to come to this first sack but his wife?

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Well, I am come to take you away.’

‘Meanwhile, my mother is going to kill you.’

Her mother, having heard with whom she was speaking, entered and recognised him. ‘So, then, it is you who are so clever, and who stole away my daughter. Hearken, then, you shall have her to wife if you perform for me the feats which I shall lay upon you.’

She gave him food and drink; he went to bed.

Next day he got up, and the witch arose also and said to him, ‘Hearken, I have here a great forest, three hundred leagues in extent. You must uproot for me every tree, cut them in pieces, arrange these pieces in piles, the logs on one side and the brushwood on the other. If you do not do that for me, I will cut off your head.’

She gave him a wooden axe and a wooden spade. He set out; he went to the forest. He came to this forest; he saw it was very large.

‘What can I do here, wretched man that I am, with the wooden axe and the wooden spade that she has given me?’

He struck a blow with the axe on a tree; and the axe broke.

‘What am I going to do now, wretched man that I am?’

He cowered down upon the ground, and fell a-weeping. He sees his wife come; she brings him something to eat and drink.

‘Why are you weeping?’ asks his wife.

‘How can I refrain from weeping when your mother has given me an axe and a spade of wood, and I have broken them both already.’

‘Hush, then, weep not; all will go well. Only eat and be filled.’

He ate and was filled.

‘Come, now, I am going to louse your head.’ [110]

He went to her; he laid his head in her lap; and he fell asleep. His wife put her fingers into her mouth and whistled. A great number of devils came to her.

‘What is it that the great lady demands of us?’

‘That this entire forest be cut down, and that the logs be set in piles on one side, and the brushwood on the other; each kind has to be ranged in separate piles.’

The devils set themselves to this task, and cut down the whole forest, so that not a stick of it remained standing, and all the wood was arranged in piles.

His wife then awoke him: ‘Get up now.’

He arose, he saw the whole forest was cut down, and each kind of wood was arranged in lots. He is rejoiced; he returns to the house before night.

‘Finished already?’ the mother, this witch, asks him.

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I am finished.’

She went out to see. The whole forest indeed was felled, and each kind of wood was arranged in piles. At that she was much mortified. Well, she gave him some food; he satisfied himself, and lay down to sleep.

She arose next morning, this witch, and said to him, ‘I will give you my daughter to wife if you cause my forest to become again what it was before, with every leaf in its place again. And if you fail to do that for me, why, then, I will cut off your head.’

Well, he set out; he went on his way. He came to the forest.

‘What shall I do now, unhappy wretch that I am?’

He tried to fasten a branch on to its proper trunk, and the branch fell off again. He bowed himself to the ground and wept. His wife came to him, bringing him food.

‘Why do you weep so, like a calf?’

‘How can I help weeping, when your mother has made me fell this forest, and now commands me so to restore this same forest so that each leaf shall be once more in its proper place on the tree?’

‘Don’t weep any more, then; eat.’

He ate; he was satisfied.

‘Come, let me louse your head.’

He lay down on her lap and went to sleep.

Then she whistled, and the devils appeared in great numbers.

‘What do you demand of us, my lady?’

‘I demand that my forest be restored to its former condition, so that each leaf may be on its own tree.’

Well, the devils set to work and restored everything, so that every leaf was in its proper place. Then she awoke him. He got up and saw the whole forest entire, as it had been before.

Quite overjoyed, he returned to the house before night.

‘Finished already?’ asked the mother.

‘Yes. I have finished.’

She went forth to see if it was true. There was the forest as it had been before.

Then the mother said, ‘What are we to do with him now?’

She gave him food and drink.

She arose next morning, this witch. ‘Hearken, you shall have my daughter to wife if you perform for me yet one more feat.’

‘Very well, mother.’

‘There is a very large pond here; you must drain it dry.’

‘Willingly.’

‘But beware of letting a single fish in it perish.’

She gave him a sieve with big holes. ‘This is what you must empty the pond with.’

He went to the pond, this nobleman’s son; he lifted up a sieveful of water, which immediately streamed away. He flung the sieve to the devils.

‘If at least she had given me a bucket, I might perhaps have managed to empty this pond more quickly.’

Then he bowed himself down and began to weep. ‘Wretch that I am, what shall I do now?’

He sees his wife come to him.

‘Why are you weeping again?’

‘Because your mother has given me a sieve with big holes, so that the water runs away at once.’

‘Never mind, then, be quiet; do not weep any more. With God’s help all will go well.’

She gave him to eat and to drink; then he lay down on his wife’s lap and slept. His wife whistled, and a great number of devils appeared before her.

‘What does her ladyship demand of us?’

‘I desire that all the water in this pond be drained away, without a single fish in it dying.’

The devils set themselves to the task; the pond was soon empty; and not one fish in it died. When he arose, he saw that there was no longer any water in the pond, and that the fish in it remained alive. Filled with joy, he went away to the house.

‘Finished already?’ the witch asked him.

‘Yes, mother, I have done it already.’

Well, she went away out to see. She sees that not a single drop of water remained in her pond, but that the fish, still living, were like to die for want of water. The witch, having then returned home, said to herself, ‘What are we going to do with him now? He has already performed three feats for me; I must make him perform yet a fourth.’

She gave him food and drink. He went to bed.

Next morning, when he arose, the witch said to him, ‘Hearken, you shall have my daughter to wife if you accomplish this feat: my pond must be fuller than ever of water, and with more fish in it.’

Then he betook himself to the pond, this nobleman’s son, and began to weep bitterly. ‘Unhappy that I am, what am I going to do now?’ He sees his wife come bringing food.

‘Why are you weeping at such a rate? I’ve told you already not to weep any more.’

He ate; he lay down with his head in his wife’s lap, and fell asleep. She whistled, and the devils appeared in great numbers.

‘What does her ladyship demand of us?’

‘I desire that my pond again be filled with water, and that it have more water and more fish than before.’

Well, she awoke him; he found the pond full of water. He was quite delighted and returned to the house.

‘Finished already?’ the witch asked him.

‘Yes, mother, I have finished.’

She goes out and sees that the pond is full of water and fish. She comes into the house again, and says she to herself, ‘What are we going to do now with him? However, he must be killed to-morrow.’

She gave him food and drink; thereafter he went to bed.

His wife came to him and said, ‘We must escape this very night. But should our mother pursue us, I will then change myself into a lovely flower, and you shall change yourself into a beautiful meadow.’

‘Very well.’

‘And if you see it is our father that pursues us, then I will change myself into a church, and you shall change yourself into an old man.’

‘Well.’

‘And if you perceive it is our sister who is coming after us, then I shall have to change myself into a duck, and you must change yourself into a drake. But I shall no longer have the heart to retain myself; she will beseech me, “My darling sister, return to us.” Thus will she speak to me. Then must you, in your form of drake, allow her no rest, but beat her senseless with blows of your wings.’

‘All right.’

Well, they set out and took to flight.

After they had escaped, and had traversed a distance of a great many leagues, what do they see?—the eldest sister coming after them. As soon as she perceived her, she said to her husband, ‘Change yourself into a beautiful meadow, and I will change myself into a pretty flower.’

The eldest sister came up, and, finding nobody, said to herself, ‘In the midst of such miserable fields, see, here is a beautiful large meadow and a very pretty flower.’ Then she went home to her mother, the witch.

‘What have you seen?’ asked her mother.

‘In the midst of a field I saw a beautiful meadow with a lovely flower.’

Her mother stormed at her: ‘Why did you not pluck that flower? You would have brought them both home again.’

Well, the witch set out herself. Meanwhile they had got to a great distance. At length she sees the witch pursuing them, and she says to her husband, ‘I will change myself into a duck swimming in the middle of a pond, and you must change yourself into a swan.’ [111]

Well, she changed herself into a duck on a beautiful pond, and he changed himself into a swan. Her mother, the witch, making up to them, said to them, ‘Oh! I am just going to capture you, to take you both back with me.’

She proceeded to drink up the water of the pond. Then the swan flung himself upon the witch, and battered in her head.

‘That’s what my wife advised me to do,’ he remarked.

Then they renewed their journey, and went away with the help of God. They had gone yet some leagues further on; then the father set out in pursuit of them. His daughter sees her father coming, and says she to her husband, ‘Now change yourself into an old man, and I will change myself into a church.’

The father arrives, but finds nobody. He sees a church in the middle of a forest, and he says to himself, this sorcerer, ‘I am now a hundred years old, but never yet have I seen a church in the depths of a forest with an old man inside it.’ So he went back to his house with the good God. When he got there, his two daughters said to him, ‘Our mother has been killed. We knew not that she had exposed all the tricks to him, and they have ended by killing our mother.’

They journeyed still further away into the world. She sees, the wife of the nobleman’s son, that her youngest sister is pursuing them. She says to him, ‘I will change myself into a duck, and do you change yourself into a drake, and you must do the same thing to her as you did to my mother.’

Well, he stopped there and changed himself into a drake, and she changed herself into a beautiful duck. Her sister came up, and proceeded to entreat her, ‘My dear sister, come back with me, for if you do not I will kill myself.’

Then the drake flung himself upon this sister, and battered her with blows of his wings, and gave her no respite; again he flung himself on her and battered in her head. Well, then they set out, and resumed their journey with the good God.

‘Now,’ said they to themselves, ‘nobody will pursue us any more.’

They arrived, this nobleman’s son and his wife, at the house of that same miller who had hidden him in a sack.

‘So you see, sir, that I have gained my end.’

‘It is very fortunate that you have, by the grace of God. We were certain you were dead, and, see, you are still alive.’

He paid this miller a large sum of money for bringing him to the house where his wife was living. He comes home; his mother sees that it is her son, who had been absent from home for more than twenty years. His child is now grown up. She is filled then with joy, so is his son at his father’s return; and they all live together with the good, golden God.

‘The Witch’ is identical with the middle portion (pp. 125–130) of
Ralston’s ‘The Water King and Vasilissa the Wise,’ collected by
Afanasief in the Voronej government, South-eastern Russia. Ralston
cites many variants, among them an Indian one. Cf. also ‘Prince
Unexpected,’ a Polish story, No. 17 in Wratislaw’s Sixty Slavonic
Folk-tales, pp. 108–121. A striking parallel for the recovery of
the smock is furnished by ‘La Loulie et la Belle de la Terre’ in
Dozon’s Contes Albanais, pp. 94–5. Cf. also Wratislaw’s Croatian
story, ‘The She-Wolf,’ No. 55, p. 290; Georgeakis and Pineau’s
story from Lesbos, No. 2, ‘Le Mont des Cailloux,’ p. 11; and
especially Cosquin’s ‘Chatte Blanche,’ No. 32, with the valuable
notes thereon (ii. 9–28). The Welsh-Gypsy story of ‘The Green Man
of Noman’s Land,’ No. 62, is almost a variant (there, likewise, the
hero is tearful); so, too, is the Bukowina-Gypsy story, ‘Made over
to the Devil’ (No. 34). Cf. the notes on these; and Clouston, i.
182–191, for bird-maidens. The pursuit and the transformation into
a church and a priest are discussed pretty fully in the
Introduction.