Chapter VI: Part 6

But before ever the Tsar had had time to undress in the front room, she was in the bath and out of it, so quick was she, and the Tsar was as puzzled as ever. In the meantime Vasilísa Vasílyevna had written a letter and bade the attendants give it to the Tsar as soon as he came out of the bath. And this was what she wrote:

“O you crow, you Tsar Bárkhat! The crow has not caught the falcon in the garden. I am not Vasíli Vasílyevich, but Vasilísa Vasílyevna!”

This was the way in which Tsar Bárkhat was hoodwinked; and you see how clever and beautiful Vasilísa Vasílyevna was.

THE DREAM

One day an old, old man was wandering about the earth, and he asked for a night’s shelter from the peasant. “Certainly,” said the peasant—“I shall be only too glad; only, will you go on telling me stories all night long?”

“Yes, all right! I will tell you stories; only, let me rest here.”

“Then, pray, come in!”

So the old man entered the hut and lay down on the sleeping bench on the top of the stove.

And the master said: “Make yourself ready, honoured guest. We shall have supper. Now, old man, tell me a story.”

“Wait a bit; I had better tell you one in the morning.”

“As it please you!” And they lay down to sleep.

Then the old man went to sleep, and dreamed that there were two candles blazing in front of the images and two birds fluttering in the _izbá_.[23] He felt thirsty, and wanted to drink, got off the sleeping bench, and there were newts running about on the floor. And he went up to the table, and saw frogs jumping and croaking on it. Then he looked up at the master’s eldest son, and there was a snake lying in between him and his wife. And he looked at the second son, and on the second son’s wife there was a cat which was yawning at the man. Then he looked at the third son, and between him and his wife there was a young man lying. This all seemed rather queer to the old man, and rather strange.

So he went and lay on the corn-kiln, and there he heard shrieks: “Sister! Sister! come and fetch me!” Then he went and lay under the fence, and there he heard a cry: “Pull me out and stick me in again!” Then he went and lay on the cauldron, and he heard a cry: “I am hanging on the cross-beam! I am falling on the cross-beam!” Then he went back into the hut.

The master woke up and said: “Now tell me a story.”

But the old man replied: “I shall not tell you a story, only the truth. Do you know what I have just dreamed? I went to sleep and thought I saw two candles blazing in front of the images and two birds fluttering inside the hut.”

“Those are my two angels fluttering about.”

“And I also saw a snake lying between your son and his wife.”

“That is because they quarrel.”

“And I looked also at your second son, and there was a cat sitting on his wife, and yawning at the man.”

“That means that they are bad friends, and the wife wants to get rid of the husband.”

“Then, when I looked at your next son, I saw a youth lying in between them.”

“That is not a youth, but an angel who was lying there; and that is why they are on such good and loving terms.”

“Why is it, then, master of the house, when I slipped off the sleeping shelf that there were newts running on the floor; and, when I wanted to drink at the table, I saw frogs leaping about and croaking?”

“Because,” the peasant answered, “my daughters-in-law do not sweep up the lathes; but put the _kvas_ on the table when they are sitting round together without saying grace.”

“Then I went to sleep on the corn-kiln, and I heard a cry: ‘Sister! Sister! come and fetch me!’”

“That means that my sons never put the brush back into its place and say the proper blessing.”

“Then I went to lie under the fence, and I heard a cry: ‘Pull me out and stick me in again!’”

“That means that the stick’s upside-down.”

“Then I went and lay under the cauldron. And I heard a cry of ‘I am hanging on the cross-beam! I am falling on the cross-beam!’”

“That means,” said the master, “that, when I die, my entire house will fall.”

THE SOLDIER AND THE TSAR IN THE FOREST

In a certain kingdom, in a certain State, lived a peasant who had two sons. The recruiting-sergeant came round and took the elder brother. So the elder brother served the Tsar with faith and loyalty, and was so fortunate in his service that in a few years he attained a general’s rank.

Now at this same time there was a new enlistment, and the lot fell on his younger brother, and they shaved his brow. And it so happened that he was made to serve in the very same regiment in which his brother was a general. The soldier recognised the general, but it was no good, because the general would not acknowledge him at all: “I do not know you, and you must not claim acquaintance with me!”

One day the soldier was standing on sentry-go at the ammunition-wagons just outside the general’s quarters, and the general was giving a great dinner, and a multitude of officers and gentlemen were going to him. The soldier saw that it was jollity within, but that he himself had nothing at all, and he began to weep bitter tears.

Then the guests began to ask him, “Tell us, soldier, why are you crying?”

“Why should I not cry? There is my own brother faring abroad and making merry, but he forgets me!”

Then the guests told the general of this; but the general was angry: “Do not believe him, he is an utter liar.” So he ordered him to be taken away from sentry-go, and to be given thirty blows with the cat, so that he should not dare to claim kinship.

This offended the soldier, so he put on undress uniform and decamped.

In some time, maybe long, maybe short, he found himself in a wood so wild, so dreamy, that he could not get out of it anywhere, and he began killing time and feeding on berries and roots.

Just about this time the Tsar was setting out, and made a mighty hunt with a splendid suite. They galloped into the open fields, let loose the hounds, and sounded trumpets, and began to press in. Suddenly from somewhere or other a beautiful stag leapt out straight in front of the Tsar, dived into the river, and swam across to the other side right into the wood. The Tsar followed after him, swam over the river, leapt and leapt and looked; but the stag had vanished from view, and he had left the hunters far behind, and all around him was the thick dark forest. Where should he go? He did not know: he could not see a single path. So until the fall of the evening he ambled about and tired himself out.

On his way the runaway soldier met him. “Hail, good man, where are you going?”

“Oh, I was out on a hunt and I lost my way in the wood; will you lead me to the right path, brother?”

“Who are you?”

“A servant of the Tsar.”

“Well, it is dark now; we had better take shelter somewhere in the thickets, and to-morrow I will show you the way.”

So they went to look where they might pass the night, went on and on, and they saw a little hut. “Oho! God has sent us a bed for the night; let us go there,” said the soldier. So they went into the little hut.

There an old woman sat. “Hail, _bábushka_!”

“Hail, soldier!”

“Give us something to eat and drink.”

“I have eaten it all up myself, and there is not anything to be had.”

“You are lying, old devil!” said the soldier, and began rummaging about in the stove and on the shelves. And he found plenty in the old woman’s hut: wine and food, and all ready. So they sat down at the table, feasted to their fill, and went to lie down in the attic.

Then the soldier said to the Tsar, “God guards him who guards himself; let one of us rest and the other stand guard.” So they cast lots, and the Tsar had to take the first watch. Then the soldier gave him his sharp cutlass, put him at the door, bade him not go to sleep, and arouse him if anything should happen. Then he himself lay down to sleep. But he thought, “Will my comrade be able to stand sentry-go? Possibly he is unaccustomed to it; I will take watch over him.” Then the Tsar stood there and stood, and soon began to nod.

“What are you nodding for?” asked the soldier: “are you going to sleep?”

“No!” said the Tsar.

“Well, then, keep a good look-out!”

So the Tsar stood a quarter of an hour, and again dozed off.

“Ho, friend, you are not dozing?”

“No, I don’t think so.” And he again dozed off.

“Ho, friend, you are not dozing?”

“I don’t think so: if you go to sleep do not blame me.”

Then the Tsar stood a quarter of an hour longer, and his legs bowed in, he fell on the ground and went to sleep.

The soldier jumped up, took the cutlass and went to recall him and to have a talk: “Why do you keep guard in this way? I have served for ten years, and my colonel never forgave me a single sleep: evidently they have not taught you anything. I forgave you once before; a third guilt is unpardonable. Well, now go to sleep; I will stand and watch.”

So the Tsar went and lay down to sleep, and the soldier went sentry-guard and did not close his eyes.

Very soon there was a whistling and a knocking, and robbers came into that hut. The old woman met them and told them, “Guests have come in to spend the night.”

“That is very well, _bábushka_; we have been rambling the woods in vain all night, and our luck has come into the hut; give us supper.”

“But our guests have eaten and drunk everything up.”

“What bold fellows they must be: where are they?”

“They have gone to sleep in the garret.”

“Very well; I will go and settle them!”

So a robber took a big knife and crept up into the garret; but as soon as ever he had poked his head into the door, the soldier swept his cutlass round, and off came his head.

Then the soldier took a drink and stood and waited on eventualities. So the robbers waited and waited and waited. “What a long time he has been!” So they sent a man to look after him and the soldier killed him also, and in a short time he had chopped off the heads of all the robbers.

At dawn the Tsar awoke, saw the corpses, and asked, “Ho, soldier, into what danger have we fallen?”

So the soldier told him all that had happened. Then they came down from the attic. When the soldier saw the old woman he cried out to her, “Here, stop, you old devil! I must have some business with you. Why are you acting as a receiver for robbers? Give us all the money now.” So the old woman opened a box full of gold, and the soldier filled his knapsack with gold and all of his pockets. He then said to his companion: “You also take some.”

So the Tsar answered, “No, brother, I need not; our Tsar has money enough without this; and if he has it, we shall also have it.”

“Well, I suppose you ought to know!” said the soldier, and he took him out of the wood into the broad road. “Go,” he said, “on this road, and in an hour you will reach the town.”

“Farewell,” said the Tsar. “Thank you for the service you have done me; come and see me, and I will make you a happy man.”

“Very well; but that’s a fine tale! I am a runaway soldier: if I show my head in the town I shall be seized on the spot.”

“Have no fear, soldier: the Tsar is very fond of me; and, if I ask him for a favour on your behalf and tell him of your bravery, he will forgive you and have pity on you.”

“Where can I find you?”

“Go into the palace.”

“Very well; I will go there to-morrow.”

So the Tsar and the soldier said good-bye. And the Tsar went on the broad road into his capital, and without delay he ordered all the staffs and the watches and the sentries to keep their eyes open, and as soon as a certain soldier came to give him the honour due to a general.

Next day, as soon as ever the soldier had appeared at the barriers, a sentry ran out and gave him a generous honour. So the soldier wondered, “What does this mean?” And he asked, “To whom are you showing these honours?”

“To you, soldier.”

So he took a handful of gold out of his wallet and gave it to the sentry as a tip. Then he entered the town. Wherever he went all the sentries gave him honours, and he always paid them back in tips. “What a wretched dolt was this servant of the Tsar’s: he has given a hint to everybody that I have plenty of money on me!” So he came up to the palace, and the entire army was assembled there, and the Tsar met him in the same dress in which he had gone hunting.

Then the soldier at last saw with whom he had passed the night in the wood, and he was terribly frightened. “This was the Tsar,” he said, “and I threatened him with my cutlass, just as though he had been my brother!” But the Tsar took him by the hand and rewarded him with a generalship, and degraded the brother into the ranks, telling him he must not disown his own kin.

THE TALE OF ALEXANDER OF MACEDON

Once upon a time there lived a king on the earth whose name was Alexander of Macedon: this was in the old days very long ago. So long ago that neither our grandfathers, nor great-grandfathers, nor our great-great-grandfathers, nor our great-great-great-grandfathers recollect it. This Tsar was one of the greatest knights of all knights that ever were. No champion of earth could ever conquer him. He loved warfare, and all his army consisted entirely of knights. Whomsoever Tsar Alexander of Macedon might go to combat, he would conquer, and he numbered under his sway all the kings of the earth.

He went to the edge of the world, and he discovered such peoples that he, however bold he was himself, felt afraid of them; ferocious folk, fiercer than wild beasts, who ate men; live folks who had but one eye; and that eye was on the forehead; folks who had three eyes, folks who had only a single leg; others who had three, and they ran as fast as an arrow darts from the bow. The names of these peoples were the Gogs and Magogs. Tsar Alexander of Macedon never lost courage at seeing these strange folk, but he set to and waged warfare on them. It may be long, it may be short, the war he waged—we do not know. Only the wild peoples became dispersed and ran away from him. He began to hunt and to chase after them, and he chased them into such thickets, precipices and mountains as no tale can tell and no pen can describe.

So at last they were able to hide themselves from Tsar Alexander of Macedon. What then did Tsar Alexander of Macedon do with them? He rolled one mountain over them, and then another roof-wise on top; on the arch he put trumpets, and he went back to his own land. The winds blew into the trumpets, and a fearsome roar was then raised to the skies, and the Gogs and Magogs sitting there cried out, “Oh, evidently Alexander of Macedon must still be alive!” The Gogs and Magogs are still alive and to this day are afraid of Alexander. But, before the end of the world, they shall escape.

THE BROTHER OF CHRIST

An old man was dying, and he was enjoining on his son not to forget the poor.

So on Easter Day he went into the church, and he took some fine eggs with him with which to greet his poor brothers, although his mother was very angry with him for so doing—for she was an evil-minded woman and merciless to the poor.

When he reached the church there was only one egg left, and there was one dirty old man. And the lad took him home to break his fast with him.

When the mother saw the poor man, she was very wroth. “It would be better,” she said, “to break your fast with a dog than with such a filthy old beggar.” And she would not break the fast.

So the son and the old man broke their fast together, and went out for a walk. Then the son looked and saw that the dress of the old man was very shabby, but the cross on him burnt like fire.

“Come,” said the old man, “we will change crosses; you become my brother by the cross.”

“No, brother,” the lad replied, “however much I may wish it; for I should get such a fine cross as you are carrying, and can give you nothing in return.”

But the old man overbore the youth, and they exchanged. And he asked him to come as his guest on Tuesday in Easter week. “And if you want to find your way,” he said, “follow the path yonder. You need only say, ‘The Lord bless me!’ and you will find me.”

That very Tuesday the youth set out on the footpath, and said: “The Lord bless me!” and set out on his way journeying forth. He went a little way, and he heard children crying: “Brother of Christ, speak of us to Christ, whether we must be long in pain?” And he went on a few steps farther; and he saw maidens ladling water out of one well into another. “Brother of Christ!” they said to him, “speak of us to Christ, how long we must remain in torture?” And he went on still farther, and saw a hedge, and beneath that hedge there became visible old men, and they were all covered with slime. And they said to him: “Brother of Christ, speak of us to Christ, how long shall we remain in pain?”

And so he went on and on. Then he saw the very old man with whom he had broken his fast. And the old man asked him: “What did you see on the way?”

And the youth recounted all that he had met.

“Well, do you recognise me?” said the old man. And it was only at this moment that the peasant boy understood that he was speaking to Jesus Christ Himself.

“Why, O Lord, are the children tortured?”

“Their mother cursed them in the womb, and they can never enter Paradise.”

“And the maidens?”

“They traded in milk, and they mixed water with their milk; and now for all eternity they must ladle out water.”

“And the old men?”

“They lived in the white world, and they used to say: ‘How pleasant it really might be to live in this world! But, as it is, there is nothing worth caring about!’ So they must bear up against the mire.”[24]

Then Christ led the boy into Paradise, and told him his place was ready for him there, and you may be sure the boy was none too anxious to leave it on that day. And afterwards He led him into Hell, and there the peasant’s mother was sitting.

So the peasant boy began to beseech Christ to have mercy on her. “Have mercy on her, Lord!”

And Christ bade the lad plait a rope of brome-grass. The peasant plaited the rope of brome-grass, and the Lord must have supervised.

And he brought it to Christ, Who said: “Now you have been weaving this rope for thirty years and have laboured sufficiently for your mother, rescue her out of Hell.”

And the son dangled the rope down to the mother who was sitting in the boiling pitch. And the rope never burned nor singed: so did God provide. And the son tried and tried to drag his mother up, and caught hold of her head, and she cried out to him: “You savage dog! Why, you are almost choking me!” Then the rope broke off, and the guilty soul once more flew down into the burning pitch.

“She had not desired to escape,” said Christ, “and all of her heart is down there, and she must stay there for all eternity.”

ALYÓSHA POPÓVICH[25]

In the sky the young bright moon was being born, and on the earth, of the old prebendary, the old pope León, a son was born, a mighty knight, and he was called by name Alyósha Popóvich, a fair name for him.

When they began to feed Alyósha, what was a week’s food for any other babe was a day’s food for him, what was a year’s food for others was a week’s food for him.

Alyósha began going about the streets and playing with the young boys. If he touched the little hand of anyone, that hand was gone: if he touched the little nose of anyone, that nose was done for: his play was insatiate and terrible. Anyone he grappled with by the waist, he slew.

And Alyósha began to grow up, so he asked his mother and father for their blessing, for he wished to go and to fare into the open field.

His father said to him, “Alyósha Popóvich, you are faring into the open field, but we have yet one who is even mightier than you: do you take into your service Marýshko, the son of Parán.”

So the two youths mounted their good horses and they fared forth into the open field. The dust rose behind them like a column, such doughty youths were they to behold.

So the two doughty youths went on to the court of Prince Vladímir. And Alyósha Popóvich went straight to the white stone palace, to Prince Vladímir, crossed himself as is befitting, bowed down in learned-wise in all four directions, and especially low to Prince Vladímir. Prince Vladímir came to meet the doughty youths and set them down at an oaken table, gave the doughty youths good food and drink, and then asked their news. And the doughty youths sat down to eat baked gingerbread and to drink strong wines.

Then Prince Vladímir asked the doughty youths, “Who are ye, doughty youths? Are ye mighty knights of prowess or wandering wayfarers bearing your burdens? I do not know either your name or your companion’s name.”

So Alyósha Popóvich answered, “I am the son of the old prebendary León, his young son Alyósha Popóvich, and my comrade and servant is Marýshko, the son of Parán.”

And when Alyósha had eaten and drunk he went and sat on the brick stove to rest from the midday heat, whilst Marýshko sat at the table.

Just at that time the knight, the Snake’s son, was making a raid and was ravaging all the kingdom of Prince Vladímir. Túgarin Zmyéyevich[26] came to the white stone palace, came to Prince Vladímir. With his left leg he stepped on the threshold and with his right leg on the oaken table. He drank and ate and had conversation with the princess, and he mocked Prince Vladímir and reviled him. He put one round of bread to his cheek and piled one on another; on his tongue he put an entire swan, and he thrust off all the pastry and swallowed it all at a gulp.

Alyósha Popóvich was lying on the brick stove, and spake in this wise to Túgarin Zmyéyevich: “My old father, León the pope, had a little cow which was a great glutton: it used to eat up all the beer vats with all the lees; and then the little cow, the glutton, came to the lake, and it drank and lapped all the water out of the lake, took it all up and it burst, and so it would also have torn Túgarin to bits after his feed.”

Then Túgarin was wroth with Alyósha Popóvich and burst on him with his steel knife. Alyósha turned aside and stood behind an oaken column. Then Alyósha spoke in this wise: “I thank you, Túgarin Zmyéyevich; you have given me a steel knife: I will break your white breast, I will put out your clear eyes, and I will behold your mettlesome heart.”

Just at that time Marýshko Paránov leapt out from behind the table, the oaken table, on to his swift feet, seized Túgarin, and fell on his back and threw him over; lifted up one of the chairs and hurled in the white stone palace, and the glass windows were shattered.

Then Alyósha Popóvich said from the brick stove, “O Marýshko, son of Parán, thou hast been a faithful servant!”

And Marýshko the son of Parán answered, “Do you give me, Alyósha Popóvich, your steel knife, and I will break open the white breast of Túgarin Zmyéyevich, I will close his clear eyes, and I will gaze on his mettlesome heart.”

But Alyósha answered, “Hail, Marýshko Paránov, do you not sully the white stone palace; let him go into the open field wherever he may, and we will meet him to-morrow in the open field.”

So, in the morning early, very early, Marýshko the son of Parán arose, together with the little sun, and he led out the stout horses to water them in the swift stream. Túgarin Zmyéyevich flew into the open and challenged Alyósha Popóvich to fight him in the open field. And Marýshko Paránov came to Alyósha Popóvich and said: “God must be your judge, Alyósha Popóvich: you would not give me your steel knife; I should have carved out the white breast from that pagan thief, should have gouged out his bright eyes, and I should have taken out his mettlesome heart and gazed on it. Now, what will you make of Túgarin? He is flying about in the open.”

Then Alyósha Popóvich spake in this wise: “That was no service, but treachery.”

So Alyósha led out his horse, saddled it with a Circassian saddle, fastened it on with twelve silken girths, not for the sake of decoration, but for the sake of strength. Alyósha set out into the open field, and he saw Túgarin Zmyéyevich, who was flying in the open.

Then Alyósha made a prayer: “Holy Mother of God, do thou punish the black traitor, and grant out of the black cloud a thick gritty rain that shall damp Túgarin’s light wings, and he may fall on the grey earth and stand on the open field!”

It was like two mountains falling on each other when Túgarin and Alyósha met. They fought with their clubs, and their clubs were shattered at the hilts. Their lances met, and their lances broke into shreds. Then Alyósha Popóvich got down from his saddle like a sheaf of oats, and Túgarin Zmyéyevich was almost striking Alyósha down. But Alyósha Popóvich was cautious. He stood between his horse’s feet and, turning round to the other side from there, smote Túgarin with his steel knife under his right breast, and threw Túgarin from his good horse. And then Alyósha Popóvich cried out, “Túgarin, I thank you, Túgarin Zmyéyevich, for the steel knife: I will tear out your white breast, I will gouge out your bright eyes, and I will gaze on your mettlesome heart.”

Then Alyósha cut off his turbulent head, and he took the turbulent head to Prince Vladímir. And as he went on he began playing with that little head, flinging it high up in the air and catching it again on his sharp lance.

But Vladímir was dismayed. “I see Túgarin bringing me the turbulent head of Alyósha Popóvich: he will now take captive all of our Christian kingdom.”

But Marýshko Paránov gave him answer: “Do not be distressed, oh bright little sun, Vladímir, in thy capital of Kíev. If Túgarin is coming on earth and is not flying in the skies he is putting his turbulent head on my steel lance. Do not be afraid, Prince Vladímir; whatever comes I will make friends with him.”

Then Marýshko the son of Parán looked out into the open field, and he recognised Alyósha Popóvich, and he said, “I can see the knightly gait and youthful step of Alyósha Popóvich. He is guiding his horse uphill and he is playing with a little head: he is throwing the little head sky-high, and is catching the little head on the point of his sharp lance. He who is riding is not the pagan Túgarin, but Alyósha Popóvich, the son of the old prebendary, the pope León, who is bringing the head of the pagan Túgarin Zmyéyevich.”

GOD’S BLESSING COMPASSES ALL THINGS

Once upon a time in a certain country, in a certain kingdom, there were two peasants, Iván and Naúm. They entered into a partnership and went together to look for work, and they rambled about until they came to a rich village and got work with different masters. For the whole week they kept at work and met on Sunday for the first time.

“Brother, how much have you earned?” asked Iván.

“God has given me five roubles.”

“God gave them to you? He does not give much unless you work for it.”

“No, Brother, without God’s blessing you can do nothing; you cannot gain a groat.”

So they quarrelled about this, and at last they decided, “We will each go our own way. We will ask the first man we meet which of us is right. He who loses the bet must sacrifice all his earnings.”

So they went on some twenty paces. Afterwards they came across an unholy spirit in human guise, and they asked him and received his reply. “What you earn for yourself is the proper thing; place no reliance on God.”

Naúm gave Iván his money and returned emptyhanded to his master. One week later the two men met once again, and set about the same argument. Naúm said: “Though you took my money from me last week, still, this week God gave me yet more.”

“If God gave it you as you said, we will once more ask the first person who meets us who is right. The loser of the bet shall have the money, and shall have his right hand hewn off.”

Naúm consented. On their way they met the same devil, who returned the same reply. Iván gave Naúm his money, hacked off his right hand, and left it behind.

Naúm pondered for a long time what he should do without his right hand. Who would give him meat and drink? But God is merciful. So he went to the river, and he lay down on a boat on the shore. “I will sit down here, and to-morrow I may see what I shall do, for the morning is wiser than the evening.”

And about midnight very many devils assembled on the boat and began to tell each other what tricks they had played. The first said: “I started a quarrel between two peasants, backed up the one who was in the wrong; and the one, who was in the right, had his hand hacked off.”

“That’s not much of a feat! If he were to wave his hand, three times over the dew, his hand would grow again,” said the second.

Then the third began to boast, “I have sucked a lord’s daughter dry, and she can hardly stir.”

“What! if any one had any compassion on the lord, he would heal the daughter at once. It is as simple as possible. You have only to take this herb”—pointing to a herb on the shore—“cook it, boil her in the brew, and she will be healed.”

“In a certain pond,” a fifth devil said, “there is a peasant who has put up a water-mill, and for many years he has been striving to make it go, but whenever he lets the water through the sluice, I make a hole in it, and all the water flows through.”

“What a fool your peasant is!” said the sixth devil. “He ought to dam it up well, and as soon as the water breaks through, throw in a sheaf of straw, and all your work would be no good.”

Naúm had listened very attentively. Next day he grew his hand on again, then he saw to the peasant’s dam, and he healed the lord’s daughter. Both the peasant and the lord rewarded him richly, and he lived a fine life.

Once he met his former companion, who was very much astonished, and asked: “How is it you have become so rich, and how did you grow your hand on again?”

Naúm told him exactly what had happened, and kept nothing back.

Iván listened very attentively, and thought, “Ha! I shall do the same, and shall become richer than he!” So he went to the river and lay down on the shore, in the boat.

And at midnight all the devils gathered together. “Brothers,” they said, “somebody must have been eavesdropping on us, for the peasant’s hand grew again, the maiden is healed, and the mill-wheel is turning!”

So they burst on the boat, found Iván, and tore him into tiny bits.

* * * * *

Then the wolves wept cows’ tears.

SHEMYÁK THE JUDGE

Once in a certain country, in a certain kingdom, there lived two brothers; one was rich and the other poor. One day the poor brother came to the rich and asked him for a horse to fetch wood out of the forest. The rich man lent him a horse. Then the poor man also asked him for a horse-collar: this the rich brother refused, and became angry. Then the poor man decided to tie the wood to the horse’s tail. And so he drove into the wood. He cut down so much wood that the horse could hardly drag it. When he got home he opened the door, but he forgot to remove the cross-beam. The horse jumped over it, but wrenched his tail out.

The poor brother brought the rich man the horse back without a tail. When he saw the animal in this condition, he would not take it; but went with the poor man before Judge Shemyák. The poor man went with his brother, and surmised he would fare very badly, for the sentence would be exile; the poor man is a butt for all, as he cannot give anything.

The brothers came to a rich peasant and asked for a night’s lodging. The peasant gave the rich man good food and drink, but the poor man nothing. The poor man lay on the oven and saw how merry the other two were making; and fell down and killed the child in the cradle.

Then the peasant decided to go with the brothers, to bring a further indictment against the poor man. They went off together, the peasant and the rich brother in front, and the poor man after them. Then they crossed a bridge: the poor man considered that he would hardly escape the Court with his life; so he jumped over the bridge, in order to commit suicide. But, under the bridge, a son was bathing his sick father, and the poor man fell plump on the old man and drowned him. Then the son also went up to the Court in order to bring a plaint against the poor man.

The rich man put in a plea to the Court that his poor brother had torn off the horse’s tail. In the meantime the poor man had wrapped a stone in a cloth and was threatening the judge with it behind the brother’s back, for he was thinking, “If the judge goes against me, I will kill him.” The judge believed that the poor man was offering him a hundred roubles so as to prove his case, and he gave judgment that the rich man must leave the horse in the poor peasant’s possession until the tail grew again.

Then the peasant came and complained that the poor man had killed his son. Once again the poor man lifted up the same stone in a menacing way against the judge, behind the peasant’s back. And the judge this time felt perfectly sure of getting a hundred roubles more for the judgment. And he commanded the peasant to give his wife to the poor peasant until another son was born. “Then you can take your wife and the child back.”

This time it was the son’s turn. And he brought in a plea that the poor man had murdered his father. Once again the poor man took the stone out of his pocket and showed it to the judge. Then the judge felt sure he would get altogether three hundred roubles in the case, and he commanded the son to go to the bridge, “and you, poor man, go there; stop under the bridge; and the son is to jump into the water plump on to you and to kill you.”

Judge Shemyák sent his servant to the poor man to ask for the three hundred roubles.

Then the poor man showed the servant the stone with which he had threatened the judge: “If the judge had not decided in my favour I should have killed him with this stone!”

When the judge heard of this, he crossed himself piously and said: “Thank God I decided for the right party.”

The poor brother went to the rich brother to fetch the horse from him in accordance with the judge’s decision, until the tail should grow again. The rich man did not want to give the horse, so he gave him instead five roubles, three quarters of corn, and a milch-goat; and made peace with him for all time.

Then the poor man went to the peasant, and in accordance with the judgment, asked for the wife, in order that she might remain with him until another child came. Then the peasant made a compromise with the poor man, gave him fifty roubles, a cow and a calf, and a mare with a foal, and four quarters of corn, and settled matters with him.

Then the poor man went to the son whose father he had killed, and read the judgment out to him, according to which the son was to jump on him from the bridge, so as to kill him. Then the son began to consider: “If I do jump, possibly I shall kill him, possibly I shall not; anyhow I shall be done for.” So he made terms with the poor man, gave him two hundred roubles and a horse, and five quarters of corn; and lived in peace with him for ever.

A STORY OF SAINT NICHOLAS

In a certain city, in a certain state, there once lived a merchant Nicholas with his wife. From the beginning they lived happily and were wealthy. But their chief joy was in this: that the Lord had presented them with a son, and such a beautiful son too! Sensible and wise—and the only prayer which the mother and father addressed to God and to his holy godfather St. Nicholas the Wonder-Worker, was that they should endow him with happiness and long life.

But, as old age crept on, they, for some reason, began to become poor; and they became so poor that Nicholas, from a famous merchant, became a mere tradesman, and they only had one little shop, and in the shop there was a chest of tobacco, a few nails, and a little iron. And either from the fact that they were growing poorer, or that they were becoming older, the mother and father of Iván—for this was the name of Nicholas’s son—had become feeble.

One day the father called Iván to him, and said: “Now, our beloved son, we, it seems, shall soon die; but do you not weep for us, but rather pray God. For we have already lived out our life; and this is as it must be. But you bury us properly, for I have saved up money for you for this purpose. One third of the money you are to spend on the funeral, the second on the Requiem Mass, and with the third buy a shop and go into trade. And I will give you my blessing. Do not give any one false measure or cheat; and if you shall grow rich, do not forget God, and to give alms to the poor, as I did time agone. Now, my son, farewell. May the Divine mercy guard you and our guilty souls.”

Seven days passed, and Iván buried his father, and his mother soon afterwards, and began to trade. Soon he began to overlook the stock, and in the corner he found an image of the holy St. Nicholas the Wonder-Worker. So he brought the image into the _izbá_[27] and he poured water into a vessel, washed it out, cleaned it in front of the image, and soon after went to market, bought a little lamp, and lighted it in front of the image.

On the first Sunday he called the Pope in, had a Mass said for his parents, chanted a prayer to St. Nicholas the Wonder-Worker, and took the image into the shop, so that he might gaze at it constantly; and thereafter, whenever he went into the shop, he used first of all to pray before the image, and afterwards he began to trade.

And his trade went so well that it seemed as if the Lord Himself had been sending customers. Later on he built a second shop, and every day he gave much money in alms, and amongst others, to one old man who every day repaired to him. Iván was very fond of him, and when a new clerk had to be engaged for the new shop, he said to this old man: “Grandfather, I do not know thy hallowed name; I do not know, father, how to call thee; only do not be angry with me, for I have built a new shop, and I have no clerk. Come with me as my clerk, and I will obey you as I would have obeyed my own father. Do be kind and do not refuse.”

The old man at the beginning would very gladly have refused; but afterwards they agreed, and began to live and dwell together, and Iván, in all things, obeyed the old man, and called him _Bátyushka_.

The old man carried on trade prosperously and profitably; and one day he said: “Ivánushka, your trade does not altogether suit me; for you trade in tobacco, and God loves not smoking, nor does He love tobacconists. So buy some small goods, and you will have more purchasers, and will not incur sin.”

Iván obeyed, and purchased many goods of all sorts, and set up shop anew. When all the goods were sold out, Iván went into the counting-house, and he saw threefold his money wherever he looked. Iván was extremely joyous at so big a profit, and he called in the Pope, and he recited the prayer to Nicholas the Wonder-Worker. And as to the old man, he was so happy, and he prayed so heartily to God.

So they traded on for three years more, and Iván became so rich that the old man advised him to sell out and cross the seas with his goods. And Iván obeyed the old man, bought a ship, loaded it with wares, and gave his house to the poor, setting one of them in as the master until he should come back himself. And they prayed to God, and he and the old man set sail.

Soon they arrived: it may be near, it may be far—the tale is soon told, but the deed is not soon done—and suddenly robbers came upon them and plundered them of all their goods: and only left themselves alive and unscathed. It was a bitter shock to Iván. But the old man quieted him, and said that all of this was for the best. So they sailed on for three days after this; and on the third day they landed on an island, and they saw a great mass of bricks. The old man said to Iván: “Get ready, Ivánushka, and load these bricks on your ship.” Iván said: “What shall I do with these bricks? I would sooner die than do trade in them.” But the old man answered and said: “Oh, Ivánushka, Ivánushka, you have had little experience; and I tell you that any single one of these bricks is worth more than all the wares of which the robbers plundered you!” And he threw one of the bricks on the ground, and under the clay there was a splendid jewel.

So Iván was glad, and began loading the ship with the bricks. And when they had loaded it to the full, the old man said: “Now, Ivánushka, you must also make some plain bricks in order that buccaneers may not steal the valuable ones.” So they loaded plain bricks as well. But on their way the wind arose and they sailed farther, and the robbers fell on them again and began to search for the goods. So the old man said to them: “Have mercy, good folk! Leave us alive; for robbers some time ago took away all we had, and now we only carry bricks, such bricks as we made on the island.” The pirates looked and were persuaded and sailed farther on, and so did Iván and the old man, and very soon arrived at a haven and stayed there.

In that kingdom there was a custom that all merchants who arrived should bring some of all their wares as a homage to the king. So the old man said to Iván: “Ivánushka, pray to the Lord God, and go and buy a golden vessel and a _fatá_, and to-morrow go and make your homage to the king.” Iván obeyed the old man, and the next day went to make his homage to the king. They told the king that a merchant had come to do allegiance, and the king sat on his throne and gave audience to Iván.

Iván came up to the king, and in his hands there was a golden vessel covered by a _fatá_, and in the golden vessel there was a brick. So the king asked Iván from what realm he came, and how his father and mother were named. And then he uncovered the _fatá_, and when he saw the brick he was very wroth, and said: “I suppose you think I have very few bricks, and you have come to trade in them in my kingdom!” And then he rushed at Iván. But Iván turned aside and the brick fell to the ground and split in two.

Then the king saw that he had behaved unseemlywise, and began to ask Iván for forgiveness. And he forthwith bought the entire ship off Iván. And when Iván saw this, he said: “You may take all my goods, but I will not sell my vessel, for therein do I have an old man who is my clerk, and we should not be able to live in the town.” “Oh,” said the king, “are there two of you?” And the king, on hearing this, became very angry, and said: “I will not let you go, but I must have the ship.” And Iván went down on his knees and besought him that he would let them go. Then the king said: “If one of you will read some psalms for three nights to my daughter who is now in the church, you may keep the ship.” For his daughter was a witch, and every night turned into a human being.

Iván returned to his ship, and he was sad and disheartened. He did not wish to go himself, for he did not wish to die; and if he dismissed the old man, it was very hard to part.

The old man said to Iván: “Why, Ivánushka, why are you so miserable and hang your head?” And Iván told him all that had happened, and what the king had said. So the old man answered him: “Never mind, Ivánushka, cheer up! Pray to the Saviour, and lie down and sleep, and I will think out some means of getting out of the danger.”

Soon it began to grow dark, and the old man roused Iván and said: “Here are three tapers. As long as the first burns, pray to God; when the second is burnt out, light the third, and then enter by the right-hand side of the Holy Gates by the altar-screen and say nothing; only mutter a prayer all the time. Go, and God bless you.”

So Iván landed, and the king’s attendants took Iván into the church and locked it, and he began to read the Psalter. One candle went out and then another, and he lighted the third, and lay down at the right-hand side of the Holy Gates. Then the flooring suddenly jumped up, and the witch began to search for Iván: “Where are you? I want to eat you.” And she looked, and she looked, and she could not find him, and then the cock crew, and she went once more into the grave. Then Iván got up, covered up the grave, and began to read once more.

In the morning they went there to collect his bones; but there Iván was, as large as life. And they went and told the king. And he bade him for the second time go and read prayers.

And Iván went to the old man and told him what had happened in the church by night.

Next night the old man told Iván to lie down on the left-hand side of the Holy Gates. And once more the witch could not find him.

On the third night the old man gave him three tapers and a ball of pitch; and the pitch was rolled round with hair. He said: “To-night, Ivánushka, is the last night. When you have burned out the last taper, lie down beside the grave, and when the witch rises out of it, go and lie in the grave in her place, and do not let her in until she shall read out the prayers ‘_Maiden Mother of God, rejoice!_’ and ‘_Our Father Which art in Heaven_.’”

Iván went into the church and began to read the Psalter, and after lighting the third candle, lay down on the right-hand side of the grave. The witch broke out of the coffin and passed over Iván and began to look for him all over the church. When the time came for her to lie down, there was Iván in her place. “Ah! there art thou!” the witch cried. “For thrice twenty-four hours I have been hungry. Come out; I want to eat you.” And Iván threw the ball covered with hair at her, and she nibbled and gnawed at it. And she at last said: “Let me go!” “No,” said Iván, “I will not let you go.” “Let me go!” the witch repeated. “Then do you,” said Iván, “recite the prayer ‘_Maiden Mother of God, rejoice!_’ after me, and then I will let you go.” And the witch read out the prayer and then said: “Let me go!” And Iván said: “Now read the _Our Father_, then I will let you go.” And the witch read it out. Then Iván came out and said: “Lie down.” But the witch said: “Now I cannot lie down.” Then she and Iván began to pray.

In the morning two men came in, and they not only saw Iván, but also Olyóna, the king’s daughter—for this was the witch’s name. And they went to the king, and recounted all they had beheld.

And the king assembled all the spiritual hierarchy and went into the church. And he thought it must be that Iván had turned into a wizard, but when he saw how things really were, he embraced Iván and called him his son. And the witch said to Iván: “Now, Iván, the merchant’s son, if you have been able to pray to God and to bring me to life again, now learn how to master me, and I will never depart one step from you.”