Chapter XIII: Part 13

He then flew to the place where the sun rises. He thought to himself: 'The sun gives light in all regions; he will therefore know the way to Perdonkorten.' When he came to the sun's house, he asked the servant: 'Is my lord the sun at home?' The servant: 'He is not; he is gone to give light on the earth. He will come home in the evening. You must wait for him if you want to speak with him. Only I tell you that when he comes home, there will be such a heat, that you will curl up like a rasher of bacon, if you don't hide yourself.' The traveller: 'If it is so, I will bury myself in the ground. When the sun comes home, come and call me.' He went, and did bury himself deep in the ground. When the sun came home and flew down, the servant came to call him. 'Now, then, my lord the sun is at home.' He got up and went to the sun. When he came into the house the sun asked him: 'What have you got to say?' He said: 'I have come to ask you the road to the city of Perdonkorten. You enlighten all lands; surely you know the way thither.' The sun: 'I don't know the way thither. It must be somewhere among hills and narrow dales, where I never go. The moon gives light more in hollow places; you must go where she rises.'

He went. He leaped, and was at once at the place where the moon rises. Neither was she at home. He asked her lady's maid: 'Whither has my lady moon gone that she is not at home?' The maid: 'She is gone to give light on the earth.' He: 'I will wait, then.' The maid: 'It is dangerous to wait. When she flies faintly shining home, such a frost will be caused that you will stiffen like an icicle.' He: 'I'll bury myself therefore in the ashes. When she returns home, come and call me.' Towards morning the moon came freezing home. He shivered in the ashes, but didn't stiffen. When the moon had put herself to rights, her maid went to call him, and said: 'Now come; the moon is at home.' He rose out of the ashes, shivered a little, and went to the moon. When he entered the house, the moon asked him: 'What do you want? What have you got to say?' He said: 'Nothing wrong, my lady moon--nothing wrong. I have come to ask you the road to the city of Perdonkorten. You throw light into all dark holes; therefore, you surely know which way to go thither.' The moon: 'I don't know that. It must be among such hills that I never get there. If you wish to learn it, you must go where the wind rises. He flies over all abysses, therefore he will surely be able to indicate you the way thither.'

In a jiffy he was there. The wind was just then at home. He asked him: 'My lord the wind, do you know the way to the city of Perdonkorten?' The wind: 'Of course I do. Anyhow, I'm going thither to-morrow morning at three. The king's daughter there is betrothed, and I am going to blow for them at the wedding, that it may not be too warm. But I shall go through such abysses and such rocks, that I don't know whether you will be able to follow me.' The traveller: 'My lord the wind, never fear. No rock will stop me. I have such a hat, that if I throw it, the ground opens and I go after it whithersoever I will.' The wind: 'Well, then, let us go.' They went at three. They came to a terrible rock. The wind roared, and made his way by a hole through the terrible rock. He could not follow him. Therefore he took off his hat and threw it against the rock. The rock opened. The wind glided on in front and he followed quickly behind.

When it was half-past four in the morning, they had made their way to the city of Perdonkorten. The wind went to blow at the wedding that it mightn't be too warm for them. _He_ went into the church, seated himself on a bench, and waited for the wedding-party. At eleven music was heard, and fifty couples of wedding guests came into the church. One was more handsomely dressed than the rest. His reverence the chaplain proceeded to say mass for them. After mass he began to take the marriage service. _He_ was sitting on a bench, but nobody saw him, because he had that mantle on. Suddenly he rose from the bench, and gave a thump on the chaplain's books, so that they fell with a bang on the floor. The chaplain said: 'One of you two must have such a sin upon him, that you are unfit to receive this sacrament.' Now the bride began to relate how someone had once come to deliver them. With this person a mutual engagement had been made that she would wait for him seven years, etc. The chaplain: 'How much time has elapsed?' She: 'Five years and a half.' The chaplain: 'Now you two must wait a year and a half more. If in that time nothing is heard of him, then you may marry.' The chaplain, moreover, asked her: 'Which would you rather have, this one or that other?' The lady: 'I should prefer the other, should he come. But I know that I shall never see him again.'

_He_ heard these words, and they pleased him. Now they went home from the church. He who had thumped the books walked amidst the wedding-party, but nobody saw him, because he had the mantle on. The damsel's father thought it hard thus to send the wedding guests away home, therefore he gave them several cups of wine. The guests drank the wine, and _he_ went up and down in the house, but nobody saw him. When all the wedding guests had taken themselves off home, he doffed his mantle, hung it on a peg, and they recognised him as their deliverer. The beautiful damsel met him in the middle of the house. She threw her arms round his neck, and said: 'Behold! to-day I should have been married to another husband, if God had not protected me.'

Hereupon they soon prepared a marriage with this new bridegroom. They went to the wedding. The wedding passed off successfully. They got ready a right handsome wedding-feast for them. They had plenty of everything--plenty to drink, and plenty to eat. Moreover, they gave me wine to drink out of a sieve, and bread to eat out of a glass, and one on the back with a shovel. After that I took myself off.

LIX.--THE WHITE SNAKE.

Once upon a time snakes multiplied so prodigiously in the district of Osojani (Ossiach), that every place swarmed with them. The peasants in that district were in evil case. The snakes crept into the parlours, the churches, the dairies, and the beds. People had not even quiet at table, for the hungry snakes made their way into the dish. But the greatest terror was caused by a frightfully large white snake, which was several times seen attacking the cattle at Ososcica (Görlitz Alpe). The peasants did not know how to help themselves; they instituted processions, and went on pilgrimages, that God might please to remove that terrible scourge from them. But neither did that help them.

When the poor people were in the greatest distress, and knew not how to act to rid themselves of this plague, one day an unknown man came into the district, who promised to put an end to every one of the snakes, provided they could assure him that they had seen no great white snake. 'We have not seen one at all,' was the reply of some of the number that had collected round the stranger.

Then he caused a great pile to be constructed round a tall fir, and when he had climbed to the top of the fir, he ordered them to set the whole pile on fire on all sides, and afterwards to run quickly aside.

When the flame had risen on all sides against the tall fir, the unknown man took a bone pipe out of his pocket, and began to blow it so powerfully that everybody's ears tingled. Quickly up rushed and crowded from all quarters a vast number of snakes, lizards, and salamanders to the pile, and, driven by some strange force, all sprang into the fire and perished there. But all at once a mightier and shriller hiss was heard from Ososcica, so that all present were seized with fear and dread. The man on the fir, at hearing it, trembled with terror: 'Woe is me! there is no help for me!' so said he. 'I have heard a white snake hiss; why did you thus mislead me? But be so compassionate as not to forget every year to give alms to the poor on my behalf.'

Scarcely had the poor man uttered these words, when a terrible snake wound its way up with a great noise, like a furious torrent, over the sharp rocks, and plunged into the lake, so that the foam flew up. It soon swam to the other side of the lake, and, all exasperated, rushed to the burning pile, reared itself up against the fir, and pushed the poor man into the fire. The snake itself struggled and hissed terribly in the fire, but the strong fire soon overpowered it.

Thus perished, along with the whole lizard race, the monstrous snake which had done so much harm to the cattle. The peasants were again able without fear to carry on their occupations, and the shepherds at Ososcica to pasture their cattle without anxiety. The grateful people have not up to the present time forgotten the promise of their ancestors, and every year on that self-same day distribute gifts of corn to the poor.

LX.--THE VILA.

One warm summer day a tall and handsome young man of Veprim was going over the hill Uczka, and found by the path on the grass a beautiful maiden, dressed in white, with a sun-kerchief, and was astounded on beholding the beauty of her countenance. Not wishing to awaken her, he tore off a large branch, and fixed it quietly in the ground, to form a shade for her. Erelong she woke up, saw the branch which had been planted, herself in the shade, and the young man standing by her. She asked him: 'Are you, young man, the person who set up this shade for me?' He replied: 'I am; for your appearance pleased me, and I was afraid that the sun would scorch you.' She said to him further: 'What do you want for this kindness?' The young man replied merrily: 'Allow me to behold your most beautiful countenance, and to take you to wife.' 'Good! I am content to take you for my husband,' said she; 'but you must know that I am a Vila. But you must never utter my name; if you speak my name Vila, I must quit you at once.' He promised that he would not, conducted her home, told his parents all that had happened, and how it had happened, only did not tell them that his bride was a Vila. She pleased them, and they willingly consented to the match. Erelong they were wedded. The two lived for some years in cheerful happiness; domestic prosperity continued in every shape and form, and she bore him a little daughter, beautiful as an angel.

Some years afterwards the young man one summer morning heard it thundering quite early. He got up, went to the window, saw that a terrible storm was brewing, and said to his wife: 'Wife, it is a pity and a great misfortune that we haven't cut our wheat; the hail will beat it all down.' She said to him: 'Never fear; it won't beat ours down.' After saying this she rose and went in front of the door. When she came back a terrible hailstorm began to fall. Her husband said reproachfully: 'I told you we should lose all our wheat.' She laughed at him, and said in reply: 'Go to the threshing-floor; you'll see that it hasn't beaten it down for _us_.' When the hail ceased, the husband did go to the threshing-floor, and there saw all the wheat nicely put together in sheaves, and, on returning, called out in utter astonishment: 'Ah, she is a Vila! she is a Vila!' But that moment she vanished. Her husband remained sad and sorrowful with his little daughter without his Vila wife.

The Vila mother still came back from time to time, visible only to her little daughter, helping her in all needs, as the most careful mother, until she grew up to a marriageable age. When the Vila's daughter came to the proper time of life, she married and was the ancestress of the present family of Polharski.--So the story.

_Elliot Stock, Paternoster Row, London._

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Transcriber's note:

Archaic and variant spelling is preserved as printed.

Hyphenation has been made consistent.

Minor punctuation errors have been corrected.

On page vii, the omitted page number in the Table of Contents, for Bohemian Stories, has been added.

On page ix, the Table of Contents entry for _The Wizard_ appears to be missing a page number following 'ii.' As there is no way to establish what this might be, it is preserved as printed.

On the assumption of printer errors, the following changes have been made:

Page xi--first instance of Kraljevich changed to Kraljevitch, to
match main body of text--LII. Kraljevitch Marko (_Kraljevich
Marko_).

Page 62--22 changed to 12--No. 12 is a superior variant of the
German 'Rumpelstilskin' ...

Page 140--become changed to became--... the queen became the
mother of two sons; ...

Page 207--be changed to he--... and went forward till he began
to feel hungry.

Page 297--57 changed to 59--In No. 59 we have a singular legend
of a white snake, ...