KOVLAD
ToC
- THE SOVEREIGN OF THE MINERAL KINGDOM
- THE LOST CHILD
I
THE SOVEREIGN OF THE MINERAL KINGDOM
ToC
Once upon a time, and a long long time ago it was,
there lived a widow who had a very pretty daughter.
The mother, good honest woman, was quite content with her
station in life. But with the daughter it was otherwise; she,
like a spoilt beauty, looked contemptuously upon her many
admirers, her mind was full of proud and ambitious thoughts,
and the more lovers she had, the prouder she became.
One beautiful moonlight night the mother awoke, and
being unable to sleep, began to pray God for the happiness
of her only child, though she often made her mother’s life
miserable. The fond woman looked lovingly at the beautiful
daughter sleeping by her side, and she wondered, as she
saw her smile, what happy dream had visited her. Then
she finished her prayer, and laying her head on the girl’s
pillow, fell asleep. Next day she said, “Come, darling child,
tell me what you were dreaming about last night, you looked
so happy smiling in your sleep.”
“Oh yes, mother, I remember. I had a very beautiful
dream. I thought a rich nobleman came to our house, in
a splendid carriage of brass, and gave me a ring set with
stones, that sparkled like the stars of heaven. When I entered
the church with him, it was full of people, and they all
thought me divine and adorable, like the Blessed Virgin.”
“Ah! my child, what sin! May God keep you from
such dreams.”
But the daughter ran away singing, and busied herself
about the house. The same day a handsome young farmer
drove into the village in his cart and begged them to come
and share his country bread. He was a kind fellow, and
the mother liked him much. But the daughter refused his
invitation, and insulted him into the bargain.
“Even if you had driven in a carriage of brass,” she said,
“and had offered me a ring set with stones shining as the
stars in heaven, I would never have married you—you, a
mere peasant!”
The young farmer was terribly upset at her words, and
with a prayer for her soul, returned home a saddened man.
But her mother scolded and reproached her.
The next night the woman again awoke, and taking her
rosary prayed with still greater fervour, that God would bless
her child. This time the girl laughed as she slept.
“What can the poor child be dreaming about?” she
said to herself: and sighing she prayed for her again. Then
she laid her head upon her pillow and tried in vain to sleep.
In the morning, when her daughter was dressing, she said:
“Well, my dear, you were dreaming again last night, and
laughing like a maniac.”
“Was I? Listen, I dreamt a nobleman came for me
in a silver carriage, and gave me a golden diadem. When
I entered the church with him, the people admired and
worshipped me more than the Blessed Virgin.”
“Ay me, what a terrible dream! what a wicked dream!
Pray God not to lead you into temptation.”
Then she scolded her daughter severely and went out,
slamming the door after her. That same day a carriage drove
into the village, and some gentlemen invited mother and
daughter to share the bread of the lord of the manor. The
mother considered such an offer a great honour, but the
daughter refused it and replied to the gentlemen scornfully:
“Even if you had come to fetch me in a carriage of solid
silver and had presented me with a golden diadem, I would
never have consented to be the wife of your lord.”
The gentlemen turned away in disgust and returned home;
the mother rebuked her severely for so much pride.
“Miserable, foolish girl!” she cried, “pride is a breath
from hell. It is your duty to be humble, honest, and sweet-tempered.”
The daughter replied by a laugh.
The third night she slept soundly, but the poor woman at
her side could not close her eyes. Tormented with dark forebodings,
she feared some misfortune was about to happen,
and counted her beads, praying fervently. All at once the
young sleeper began to sneer and laugh.
“Merciful God! ah me!” cried the poor woman, “what
are these dreams that worry her poor brain!”
In the morning she said, “What made you sneer so frightfully
last night? You must have had bad dreams again,
my poor child.”
“Now, mother, you look as if you were going to preach
again.”
“No, no; but I want to know what you were dreaming
about.”
“Well, I dreamt some one drove up in a golden carriage
and asked me to marry him, and he brought me a mantle
of cloth of pure gold. When we came into church, the crowd
pressed forward to kneel before me.”
The mother wrung her hands piteously, and the girl left
the room to avoid hearing her lamentations. That same
day three carriages entered the yard, one of brass, one of
silver, and one of gold. The first was drawn by two, the
second by three, the third by four magnificent horses. Gentlemen
wearing scarlet gloves and green mantles got out of
the brass and silver carriages, while from the golden carriage
alighted a prince who, as the sun shone on him, looked as
if he were dressed in gold. They all made their way to the
widow and asked for her daughter’s hand.
“I fear we are not worthy of so much honour,” replied
the widow meekly, but when the daughter’s eyes fell upon
her suitor she recognised in him the lover of her dreams, and
withdrew to weave an aigrette of many-coloured feathers.
In exchange for this aigrette which she offered her bridegroom,
he placed upon her finger a ring set with stones that shone
like the stars in heaven, and over her shoulders a mantle
of cloth of gold. The young bride, beside herself with joy,
retired to complete her toilette. Meanwhile the anxious
mother, a prey to the blackest forebodings, said to her son-in-law,
“My daughter has consented to share your bread, tell
me of what sort of flour it is made?”
“In our house we have bread of brass, of silver, and of
gold; my wife will be free to choose.”
Such a reply astonished her more than ever, and made
her still more unhappy. The daughter asked no questions,
was in fact content to know nothing, not even what her
mother suffered. She looked magnificent in her bridal
attire and golden mantle, but she left her home with the
prince without saying good-bye either to her mother or to
her youthful companions. Neither did she ask her mother’s
blessing, though the latter wept and prayed for her safety.
After the marriage ceremony they mounted the golden
carriage and set off, followed by the attendants of silver and
brass. The procession moved slowly along the road without
stopping until it reached the foot of a high rock. Here,
instead of a carriage entrance, was a large cavern which led
out into a steep slope down which the horses went lower and
lower. The giant Zémo-tras (he who makes the earthquakes)
closed the opening with a huge stone. They made their
way in darkness for some time, the terrified bride being
reassured by her husband.
“Fear nothing,” said he, “in a little while it will be
clear and beautiful.”
Grotesque dwarfs, carrying lighted torches, appeared on
all sides, saluted and welcomed their King Kovlad as they
illumined the road for him and his attendants. Then for
the first time the girl knew she had married Kovlad, but this
mattered little to her. On coming out from these gloomy
passages into the open they found themselves surrounded
by large forests and mountains, mountains that seemed to
touch the sky. And, strange to relate, all the trees of whatsoever
kind, and even the mountains that seemed to touch
the sky, were of solid lead. When they had crossed these
marvellous mountains the giant Zémo-tras closed all the
openings in the road they had passed. They then drove
out upon vast and beautiful plains, in the centre of which
was a golden palace covered with precious stones. The
bride was weary with looking at so many wonders, and
gladly sat down to the feast prepared by the dwarfs. Meats
of many kinds were served, roast and boiled, but lo! they
were of metal—brass, silver, and gold. Every one ate heartily
and enjoyed the food, but the young wife, with tears in her
eyes, begged for a piece of bread.
“Certainly, madam, with pleasure,” answered Kovlad.
But she could not eat the bread which was brought, for it was
of brass. Then the king sent for a piece of silver bread, still
she could not eat it; and again for a slice of golden bread,
that too she was unable to bite. The servants did all they
could to get something to their mistress’s taste, but she found
it impossible to eat anything.
“I should be most happy to gratify you,” said Kovlad
“but we have no other kind of food.”
Then she realised for the first time in whose power she
had placed herself, and she began to weep bitterly and wish
she had taken her mother’s advice.
“It is of no use to weep and regret,” said Kovlad,
“you must have known the kind of bread you would have
to break here; your wish has been fulfilled.”
And so it was, for nothing can recall the past. The
wretched girl was obliged henceforth to live underground
with her husband Kovlad, the God of Metals, in his golden
palace. And this because she had set her heart upon nothing
but the possession of gold, and had never wished for anything
better.
II
THE LOST CHILD
ToC
Long long ago there lived a very rich nobleman. But
though he was so rich he was not happy, for he had no
children to whom he could leave his wealth. He was, besides,
no longer young. Every day he and his wife went to church
to pray for a son. At last, after long waiting, God sent them
what they desired. Now the evening before its arrival the
father dreamed that its chance of living would depend upon
one condition, namely, that its feet never touched the earth
until it was twelve years old. Great care was taken that this
should be avoided, and when the little stranger came, only
trustworthy nurses were employed to look after him. As
the years passed on the child was diligently guarded, sometimes
he was carried in his nurses’ arms, sometimes rocked
in his golden cradle, but his feet never touched the ground.
Now when the end of the time drew near the father began
preparations for a magnificent feast which should be given
to celebrate his son’s release. One day while these were in
progress a frightful noise, followed by most unearthly yells,
shook the castle. The nurse dropped the child in her terror
and ran to the window: that instant the noises ceased. On
turning to take up the boy, imagine her dismay when she
found him no longer there, and remembered that she had
disobeyed her master’s orders.
Hearing her screams and lamentations, all the servants
of the castle ran to her. The father soon followed, asking,
“What is the matter? What has happened? Where is my
child?” The nurse, trembling and weeping, told of the disappearance
of his son, his only child. No words can tell
the anguish of the father’s heart. He sent servants in every
direction to hunt for his boy, he gave orders, he begged and
prayed, he threw away money right and left, he promised
everything if only his son might be restored to him. Search
was made without loss of time, but no trace of him could be
discovered; he had vanished as completely as if he had never
existed.
Many years later the unhappy nobleman learnt that in one
of the most beautiful rooms of the castle, footsteps, as of
some one walking up and down, and dismal groans, were
heard every midnight. Anxious to follow the matter up,
for he thought it might in some way concern his lost son, he
made known that a reward of three hundred gold pieces would
be given to any one who would watch for one whole night
in the haunted room. Many were willing, but had not the
courage to stay till the end; for at midnight, when the dismal
groans were heard, they would run away rather than risk their
lives for three hundred gold pieces. The poor father was
in despair, and knew not how to discover the truth of this
dark mystery.
Now close to the castle dwelt a widow, a miller by trade,
who had three daughters. They were very poor, and hardly
earned enough for their daily needs. When they heard of
the midnight noises in the castle and the promised reward,
the eldest daughter said, “As we are so very poor we have
nothing to lose; surely we might try to earn these three hundred
gold pieces by remaining in the room one night. I
should like to try, mother, if you will let me.”
The mother shrugged her shoulders, she hardly knew
what to say; but when she thought of their poverty and
the difficulty they had to earn a living she gave permission
for her eldest daughter to remain one night in the
haunted room. Then the daughter went to ask the nobleman’s
consent.
“Have you really the courage to watch for a whole night
in a room haunted by ghosts? Are you sure you are not
afraid, my good girl?”
“I am willing to try this very night,” she replied. “I
would only ask you to give me some food to cook for my
supper, for I am very hungry.”
Orders were given that she should be supplied with everything
she wanted, and indeed enough food was given her, not
for one supper only, but for three. With the food, some dry
firewood and a candle, she entered the room. Like a good
housewife, she first lit the fire and put on her saucepans, then
she laid the table and made the bed. This filled up the early
part of the evening. The time passed so quickly that she was
surprised to hear the clock strike twelve, while at the last
stroke, footsteps, as of some one walking, shook the room,
and dismal groans filled the air. The frightened girl ran from
one corner to the other, but could not see any one. But the
footsteps and the groans did not cease. Suddenly a young
man approached her and asked, “For whom is this food
cooked?”
“For myself,” she said.
The gentle face of the stranger saddened, and after a short
silence he asked again, “And this table, for whom is it laid?”
“For myself,” she replied.
The brow of the young man clouded over, and the beautiful
blue eyes filled with tears as he asked once more, “And
this bed, for whom have you made it?”
“For myself,” replied she in the same selfish and indifferent
tone.
Tears fell from his eyes as he waved his arms and
vanished.
Next morning she told the nobleman all that had
happened, but without mentioning the painful impression her
answers had made upon the stranger. The three hundred
golden crowns were paid, and the father was thankful to have
at last heard something that might possibly lead to the discovery
of his son.
On the following day the second daughter, having been
told by her sister what to do and how to answer the stranger,
went to the castle to offer her services. The nobleman willingly
agreed, and orders were given that she should be
provided with everything she might want. Without loss of
time she entered the room, lit the fire, put on the saucepans,
spread a white cloth upon the table, made the bed, and
awaited the hour of midnight. When the young stranger
appeared and asked, “For whom is this food prepared?
for whom is the table laid? for whom is the bed made?”
she answered as her sister had bidden her, “For me, for
myself only.”
As on the night before, he burst into tears, waved his
arms, and suddenly disappeared.
Next morning she told the nobleman all that had happened
except the sad impression her answers had made upon the
stranger. The three hundred gold pieces were given her, and
she went home.
On the third day the youngest daughter wanted to try her
fortune.
“Sisters,” said she, “as you have succeeded in earning
three hundred gold crowns each, and so helping our dear
mother, I too should like to do my part and remain a night
in the haunted room.”
Now the widow loved her youngest daughter more dearly
than the others, and dreaded to expose her to any danger;
but as the elder ones had been successful, she allowed her
to take her chance. So with the instructions from her sisters
as to what she should do and say, and with the nobleman’s
consent and abundant provisions, she entered the haunted
room. Having lit the fire, put on the saucepans, laid the
table and made the bed, she awaited with hope and fear the
hour of midnight.
As twelve o’clock struck, the room was shaken by the
footsteps of some one who walked up and down, and the air
was filled with cries and groans. The girl looked everywhere,
but no living being could she see. Suddenly there stood
before her a young man who asked in a sweet voice, “For
whom have you prepared this food?”
Now her sisters had told her how to answer and how to
act, but when she looked into the sad eyes of the stranger
she resolved to treat him more kindly.
“Well, you do not answer me; for whom is the food
prepared?” he asked again impatiently, as she made no
reply. Somewhat confused, she said, “I prepared it for
myself, but you too are welcome to it.”
At these words his brow grew more serene.
“And this table, for whom is it spread?”
“For myself, unless you will honour me by being my
guest.”
A bright smile illumined his face.
“And this bed, for whom have you made it?”
“For myself, but if you have need of rest it is for you.”
He clapped his hands for joy and replied, “Ah, that’s
right; I accept the invitation with pleasure, and all that you
have been so kind as to offer me. But wait, I pray you
wait for me; I must first thank my kind friends for the care
they have taken of me.”
A fresh warm breath of spring filled the air, while at the
same moment a deep precipice opened in the middle of
the floor. He descended lightly, and she, anxious to see
what would happen, followed him, holding on to his mantle.
Thus they both reached the bottom of the precipice. Down
there a new world opened itself before her eyes. To the
right flowed a river of liquid gold, to the left rose high
mountains of solid gold, in the centre lay a large meadow
covered with millions of flowers. The stranger went on,
the girl followed unnoticed. And as he went he saluted
the field flowers as old friends, caressing them and leaving
them with regret. Then they came to a forest where the
trees were of gold. Many birds of different kinds began to
sing, and flying round the young stranger perched familiarly
on his head and shoulders. He spoke to and petted each one.
While thus engaged, the girl broke off a branch from one of the
golden trees and hid it in remembrance of this strange land.
Leaving the forest of gold, they reached a wood where all
the trees were of silver. Their arrival was greeted by an
immense number of animals of various kinds. These crowded
together and pushed one against another to get close to their
friend. He spoke to each one and stroked and petted them.
Meanwhile the girl broke off a branch of silver from one of the
trees, saying to herself, “These will serve me as tokens of this
wonderful land, for my sisters would not believe me if I only
told them of it.”
When the young stranger had taken leave of all his friends
he returned by the paths he had come, and the girl followed
without being seen. Arrived at the foot of the precipice, he
began to ascend, she coming silently after, holding on to his
mantle. Up they went higher and higher, until they reached
the room in the castle. The floor closed up without trace of
the opening. The girl returned to her place by the fire, where
she was standing when the young man approached.
“All my farewells have been spoken,” said he, “now we
can have supper.”
She hastened to place upon the table the food so hurriedly
prepared, and sitting side by side they supped together. When
they had made a good meal he said, “Now it is time to rest.”
He lay down on the carefully-made bed, and the girl
placed by his side the gold and silver branches she had
picked in the Mineral Land. In a few moments he was
sleeping peacefully.
Next day the sun was already high in the sky, and yet the
girl had not come to give an account of herself. The nobleman
became impatient; he waited and waited, becoming more
and more uneasy. At last he determined to go and see for
himself what had happened. Picture to yourself his surprise
and joy, when on entering the haunted chamber he saw his
long-lost son sleeping on the bed, while beside him sat the
widow’s beautiful daughter. At that moment the son awoke.
The father, overwhelmed with joy, summoned the attendants
of the castle to rejoice with him in his new-found happiness.
Then the young man saw the two branches of metal, and
said with astonishment, “What do I see? Did you then follow
me down there? Know that by this act you have broken
the spell and released me from the enchantment. These two
branches will make two palaces for our future dwelling.”
Thereupon he took the branches and threw them out of
the window. Immediately there were seen two magnificent
palaces, one of gold, the other of silver. And there they lived
happily as man and wife, the nobleman’s son and the miller’s
daughter. And if not dead they live there still.
THE MAID WITH
HAIR OF GOLD
ToC
THE MAID WITH HAIR OF GOLD
There was once a king so wise and clever that he
understood the language of all animals. You shall hear
how he gained this power.
One day an old woman came to the palace and said, “I
wish to speak to his majesty, for I have something of great
importance to tell him.” When admitted to his presence she
presented him with a curious fish, saying, “Have it cooked for
yourself, and when you have eaten it you will understand all
that is said by the birds of the air, the animals that walk the
earth, and the fishes that live under the waters.”
The king was delighted to know that which every one else
was ignorant of, so he rewarded the old woman generously, and
told a servant to cook the fish very carefully.
“But take care,” said the monarch, “that you do not
taste it yourself, for if you do you will be killed.”
George, the servant, was astonished at such a threat, and
wondered why his master was so anxious that no one else
should eat any of the fish. Then examining it curiously he
said, “Never in all my life have I seen such an odd-looking
fish; it seems more like a reptile. Now where would be the
harm if I did take some? Every cook tastes of the dishes he
prepares.”
When it was fried he tasted a small piece, and while taking
some of the sauce heard a buzzing in the air and a voice
speaking in his ear.
“Let us taste a crumb: let us taste a little,” it said.
He looked round to see where the words came from,
but there were only a few flies buzzing about in the
kitchen. At the same moment some one out in the yard
said in a harsh jerky voice, “Where are we going to settle?
Where?”
And another answered, “In the miller’s barley-field; ho!
for the miller’s field of barley.”
When George looked towards where this strange talk came
he saw a gander flying at the head of a flock of geese.
“How lucky,” thought he; “now I know why my master
set so much value on this fish and wished to eat it all
himself.”
George had now no doubt that by tasting the fish he had
learnt the language of animals, so after having taken a little
more he served the king with the remainder as if nothing had
happened.
When his majesty had dined he ordered George to saddle
two horses and accompany him for a ride. They were soon
off, the master in front, the servant behind.
While crossing a meadow George’s horse began to prance
and caper, neighing out these words, “I say, brother, I feel so
light and in such good spirits to-day that in one single bound
I could leap over those mountains yonder.”
“I could do the same,” answered the king’s horse, “but
I carry a feeble old man on my back; he would fall like a log
and break his skull.”
“What does that matter to you? So much the better if
he should break his head, for then, instead of being ridden by
an old man you would probably be mounted by a young one.”
The servant laughed a good deal upon hearing this conversation
between the horses, but he took care to do so on the
quiet, lest the king should hear him. At that moment his
majesty turned round, and, seeing a smile on the man’s face,
asked the cause of it.
“Oh nothing, your majesty, only some nonsense that
came into my head.”
The king said nothing, and asked no more questions, but
he was suspicious, and distrusted both servant and horses; so
he hastened back to the palace.
When there he said to George, “Give me some wine, but
mind you only pour out enough to fill the glass, for if you put
in one drop too much, so that it overflows, I shall certainly
order my executioner to cut off your head.”
While he was speaking two birds flew near the window, one
chasing the other, who carried three golden hairs in his beak.
“Give them me,” said one, “you know they are mine.”
“Not at all, I picked them up myself.”
“No matter, I saw them fall while the Maid with Locks of
Gold was combing out her hair. At least, give me two, then
you can keep the third for yourself.”
“No, not a single one.”
Thereupon one of the birds succeeded in seizing the hairs
from the other bird’s beak, but in the struggle he let one fall,
and it made a sound as if a piece of metal had struck the
ground. As for George, he was completely taken off his guard,
and the wine overflowed the glass.
The king was furious, and feeling convinced that his
servant had disobeyed him and had learnt the language of
animals, he said, “You scoundrel, you deserve death for
having failed to do my bidding, nevertheless, I will show
you mercy upon one condition, that you bring me the Maid
with the Golden Locks, for I intend to marry her.”
Alas, what was to be done? Poor fellow, he was willing
to do anything to save his life, even run the risk of losing it
on a long journey. He therefore promised to search for
the Maid with the Golden Locks: but he knew not where or
how to find her.
When he had saddled and mounted his horse he allowed
it to go its own way, and it carried him to the outskirts of a
dark forest, where some shepherds had left a bush burning.
The sparks of fire from the bush endangered the lives of a
large number of ants which had built their nest close by, and
the poor little things were hurrying away in all directions,
carrying their small white eggs with them.
“Help us in our distress, good George,” they cried in a
plaintive voice; “do not leave us to perish, together with our
children whom we carry in these eggs.”
George immediately dismounted, cut down the bush, and
put out the fire.
“Thank you, brave man: and remember, when you are
in trouble you have only to call upon us, and we will help you
in our turn.” The young fellow went on his way far into
the forest until he came to a very tall fir tree. At the top of
the tree was a raven’s nest, while at the foot, on the ground,
lay two young ones who were calling out to their parents and
saying, “Alas, father and mother, where have you gone?
You have flown away, and we have to seek our food, weak
and helpless as we are. Our wings are as yet without feathers,
how then shall we be able to get anything to eat? Good
George,” said they, turning to the young man, “do not leave
us to starve.”
Without stopping to think, the young man dismounted,
and with his sword slew his horse to provide food for the
young birds. They thanked him heartily, and said, “If ever
you should be in distress, call to us and we will help you at
once.”
After this George was obliged to travel on foot, and he
walked on for a long time, ever getting further and further
into the forest. On reaching the end of it, he saw stretching
before him an immense sea that seemed to mingle with
the horizon. Close by stood two men disputing the possession
of a large fish with golden scales that had fallen into
their net.
“The net belongs to me,” said one, “therefore the fish
must be mine.”
“Your net would not have been of the slightest use, for
it would have been lost in the sea, had I not come with my
boat just in the nick of time.”
“Well, you shall have the next haul I make.”
“And suppose you should catch nothing? No; give me
this one and keep the next haul for yourself.”
“I am going to put an end to your quarrel,” said George,
addressing them. “Sell me the fish: I will pay you well, and
you can divide the money between you.”
Thereupon he put into their hands all the money the king
had given him for the journey, without keeping a single coin
for himself. The fishermen rejoiced at the good fortune which
had befallen them, but George put the fish back into the water.
The fish, thankful for this unexpected freedom, dived and disappeared,
but returning to the surface, said, “Whenever you
may need my help you have but to call me, I shall not fail to
show my gratitude.”
“Where are you going?” asked the fisherman.
“I am in search of a wife for my old master; she is known
as the Maid with the Golden Locks: but I am at a loss where
to find her.”
“If that be all, we can easily give you information,”
answered they. “She is Princess Zlato Vlaska, and daughter
of the king whose crystal palace is built on that island
yonder. The golden light from the princess’s hair is reflected
on sea and sky every morning when she combs it. If you
would like to go to the island we will take you there for
nothing, in return for the clever and generous way by which
you made us stop quarrelling. But beware of one thing:
when in the palace do not make a mistake as to which is the
princess, for there are twelve of them, but only Zlato Vlaska
has hair of gold.”
When George reached the island he lost no time in making
his way to the palace, and demanded from the king the hand
of his daughter, Princess Zlato Vlaska, in marriage to the
king his master.
“I will grant the request with pleasure,” said his majesty,
“but only on one condition, namely, that you perform certain
tasks which I will set you. These will be three in number,
and must be done in three days, just as I order you. For
the present you had better rest and refresh yourself after your
journey.”
On the next day the king said, “My daughter, the Maid
with the Golden Hair, had a string of fine pearls, and the
thread having broken, the pearls were scattered far and wide
among the long grass of this field. Go and pick up every one
of the pearls, for they must all be found.”
George went into the meadow, which was of great length
and stretched away far out of sight. He went down on his
knees and hunted between the tufts of grass and bramble
from morning until noon, but not a single pearl could he
find.
“Ah, if I only had my good little ants here,” he cried,
“they would be able to help me.”
“Here we are, young man, at your service,” answered the
ants, suddenly appearing. Then they all ran round him,
crying out, “What is the matter? What do you want?”
“I have to find all the pearls lost in this field, and cannot
see a single one: can you help me?”
“Wait a little, we will soon get them for you.”
He had not to wait very long, for they brought him a
heap of pearls, and all he had to do was to thread them
on the string. Just as he was about to make a knot he
saw a lame ant coming slowly towards him, for one of her
feet had been burned in the bush fire.
“Wait a moment, George,” she called out; “do not tie
the knot before threading this last pearl I am bringing
you.”
When George took his pearls to the king, his majesty
first counted them to make sure they were all there, and
then said, “You have done very well in this test, to-morrow
I will give you another.”
Early next morning the king summoned George to him
and said, “My daughter, the Princess with the Golden Hair,
dropped her gold ring into the sea while bathing. You must
find the jewel and bring it me to-day.”
The young fellow walked thoughtfully up and down the
beach. The water was pure and transparent, but he could
not see beyond a certain distance into its depths, and therefore
could not tell where the ring was lying beneath the
water.
“Ah, my golden fishling, why are you not here now?
You would surely be able to help me,” he said to himself,
speaking aloud.
“Here I am,” answered the fish’s voice from the sea,
“what can I do for you?”
“I have to find a gold ring which has been dropped in
the sea, but as I cannot see to the bottom there is no use
looking.”
The fish said, “Fortunately I have just met a pike, wearing
a gold ring on his fin. Just wait a moment, will you?”
In a very short time he reappeared with the pike and
the ring. The pike willingly gave up the jewel.
The king thanked George for his cleverness, and then
told him the third task. “If you really wish me to give
the hand of my daughter with the golden hair to the
monarch who has sent you here, you must bring me two
things that I want above everything: the Water of Death
and the Water of Life.”
George had not the least idea where to find these
waters, so he determined to trust to chance and “follow his
nose,” as the saying is. He went first in one direction and
then in another, until he reached a dark forest.
“Ah, if my little ravens were but here, perhaps they
would help me,” he said aloud.
Suddenly there was heard a rushing noise, as of wings
overhead, and then down came the ravens calling “Krâk,
krâk, here we are, ready and willing to help you. What are
you looking for?”
“I want some of the Water of Death and the Water of
Life: it is impossible for me to find them, for I don’t know
where to look.”
“Krâk, krâk, we know very well where to find some.
Wait a moment.”
Off they went immediately, but soon returned, each with
a small gourd in his beak. One gourd contained the Water
of Life, the other the Water of Death.
George was delighted with his success, and went back on
his way to the palace. When nearly out of the forest, he saw
a spider’s web hanging between two fir trees, while in the
centre was a large spider devouring a fly he had just killed.
George sprinkled a few drops of the Water of Death on the
spider; it immediately left the fly, which rolled to the ground
like a ripe cherry, but on being touched with the Water of
Life she began to move, and stretching out first one limb and
then another, gradually freed herself from the spider’s web.
Then she spread her wings and took flight, having first buzzed
these words in the ears of her deliverer: “George, you have
assured your own happiness by restoring mine, for without
my help you would never have succeeded in recognising the
Princess with the Golden Hair when you choose her to-morrow
from among her twelve sisters.”
And the fly was right, for though the king, on finding that
George had accomplished the third task, agreed to give him
his daughter Zlato Vlaska, he yet added that he would have to
find her himself.
He then led him to a large room and bade him choose
from among the twelve charming girls who sat at a round
table. Each wore a kind of linen head-dress that completely
hid the upper part of the head, and in such a way
that the keenest eye could not discover the colour of the
hair.
“Here are my daughters,” said the king, “but only one
among them has golden hair. If you find her you may take
her with you; but if you make a mistake she will remain with
us, and you will have to return empty-handed.”
George felt much embarrassed, not knowing what course
to take.
“Buzz, Buzz, come walk round these young girls, and I
will tell you which is yours.”
Thus spoke the fly whose life George had saved.
Thus reassured he walked boldly round, pointing at them
one after the other and saying, “This one has not the golden
hair, nor this one either, nor this….”
Suddenly, having been told by the fly, he cried, “Here we
are: this is Zlato Vlaska, even she herself. I take her for my
own, she whom I have won, and for whom I have paid the
price with many cares. You will not refuse her me this time.”
“Indeed, you have guessed aright,” replied the king.
The princess rose from her seat, and letting fall her head-dress,
exposed to full view all the splendour of her wonderful
hair, which seemed like a waterfall of golden rays, and covered
her from head to foot. The glorious light that shone from it
dazzled the young man’s eyes, and he immediately fell in love
with her.
The king provided his daughter with gifts worthy of a
queen, and she left her father’s palace in a manner befitting a
royal bride. The journey back was accomplished without any
mishaps.
On their arrival the old king was delighted at the sight of
Zlato Vlaska, and danced with joy. Splendid and costly preparations
were made for the wedding. His majesty then said
to George, “You robbed me of the secret of animal language.
For this I intended to have your head cut off and your body
thrown to birds of prey. But as you have served me so faithfully
and won the princess for my bride I will lessen the
punishment—that is, although you will be executed, yet you
shall be buried with all the honours worthy of a superior
officer.”
So the sentence was carried out, cruelly and unjustly.
After the execution the Princess with the Golden Hair begged
the king to make her a present of George’s body, and the
monarch was so much in love that he could not refuse his
intended bride anything.
Zlato Vlaska with her own hands replaced the head on
the body, and sprinkled it with the Water of Death. Immediately
the separated parts became one again. Upon this
she poured the Water of Life, and George returned to life,
fresh as a young roebuck, his face radiant with health and
youth.
“Ah me! How well I have slept,” said he, rubbing his
eyes.
“Yes; no one could have slept better,” answered the
princess, smiling, “but without me you would have slept
through eternity.”
When the old king saw George restored to life, and looking
younger, handsomer, and more vigorous than ever, he
too wanted to be made young again. He therefore ordered
his servants to cut off his head and sprinkle it with the Life-Giving
Water. They cut it off, but he did not come to life
again, although they sprinkled his body with all the water
that was left. Perhaps they made some mistake in using
the wrong water, for the head and body were joined, but life
itself never returned, there being no Water of Life left for
that purpose. No one knew where to get any, and none
understood the language of animals.
So, to make a long story short, George was proclaimed
king, and the Princess with Hair of Gold, who really loved
him, became his queen.
THE JOURNEY TO THE
SUN AND THE MOON
ToC
THE JOURNEY TO THE SUN AND THE MOON
There were once two young people who loved each
other dearly. The young man was called Jean, the
girl, Annette. In her sweetness she was like unto
a dove, in her strength and bravery she resembled an
eagle.
Her father was a rich farmer, and owned a large estate,
but Jean’s father was only a poor mountain shepherd.
Annette did not in the least mind her lover being poor,
for he was rich in goodness: nor did she think her father
would object to their marrying.
One day Jean put on his best clothes, and went to ask
the farmer for his daughter’s hand. The farmer listened
without interrupting him, and then replied, “If you would
marry Annette, go and ask of the Sun why he does not warm
the night as well as the day. Then inquire of the Moon
why she does not shine by day as well as by night. When
you return with these answers you shall not only have my
daughter but all my wealth.”
These conditions in no way daunted Jean, who placed
his hat on the side of his head, and taking a loving farewell
of Annette, set out in search of the Sun. On reaching a
small town at the close of day, he looked about for a place
wherein to pass the night. Some kind people offered him
shelter and invited him to sup with them, inquiring as to
the object of his journey. When they heard that he was
on his way to visit the Sun and Moon, the master of the
house begged him to ask the Sun why the finest pear-tree
they had in the town had, for several years, ceased to bear
fruit, for it used to produce the most delicious pears in
the world.
Jean willingly promised to make this inquiry, and the
next day continued his journey.
He walked on and on, over mountain and moor, through
valley and dense forest, until he came to a land where
there was no drinking water. The inhabitants, when they
heard the object of Jean’s journey, begged him to ask the
Sun and Moon why a well, that was the chief water supply
of the district, no longer gave good water. Jean promised
to do so, and resumed his journey.
After long and weary wanderings he reached the Sun’s
abode, and found him about to start on his travels.
“O Sun,” said he, “stop one moment, do not depart
without first answering a few questions.”
“Be quick then and speak, for I have to go all round
the world to-day.”
“Pray tell me why you do not warm or light the earth
by night as well as day?”
“For this simple reason, that if I did, the world and
everything upon it would be very soon burnt up.”
Jean then put his questions concerning the pear-tree and
the well. But the Sun replied that his sister, the Moon,
would be able to answer him on those points.
Hardly had the Sun finished speaking before he was
obliged to hurry off, and Jean travelled far and fast to meet
the Moon. On coming up to her he said, “Would you
kindly stop one moment? there are a few questions I should
like to ask you.”
“Very well, be quick, for the earth is waiting for me,”
answered she, and stood still at once.
“Tell me, dear Moon, why you do not light the world by
day as well as by night? And why you never warm it?”
“Because if I lit up the world by day as well as by night
the plants would produce neither fruit nor flower. And
though I do not warm the earth, I supply it with dew, which
makes it fertile and fruitful.”
She was then about to continue her course, but Jean,
begging her to stop one moment longer, questioned her about
the pear-tree which had ceased to bear fruit.
And she answered him thus: “While the king’s eldest
daughter remained unmarried the tree bore fruit every year.
After her wedding she had a little child who died and was
buried under this tree. Since then there has been neither
fruit nor flower on its branches: if the child be given
Christian burial the tree will produce blossom and fruit as
in the past.”
The Moon was just moving off when Jean begged her to
stop and answer one more question, which was, why the
inhabitants of a certain land were unable to obtain from their
well the clear and wholesome water it had formerly poured
forth.
She replied: “Under the mouth of the well, just where
the water should flow, lies an enormous toad which poisons
it continually: the brim of the well must be broken and
the toad killed, then the water will be as pure and wholesome
as formerly.”
The Moon then resumed her journey, for Jean had no
more questions to ask her.
He joyfully went back to claim his Annette, but forgot
not to stop on coming to the land where they were short of
water. The inhabitants ran out to meet him, anxious to
know what he had found out.
A woman brings a rolled-up cloth to a man laden with other goods, while a king and crowd look on.
Jean led them to the well and there explained the instructions
he had received from the Moon, at the same time
showing them what to do. Sure enough, right underneath
the brim of the well they found a horrible toad which
poisoned everything. When they had killed it, the water
immediately became pure and transparent, and sweet to the
taste as before.
All the people brought Jean presents, and thus laden with
riches he again set out. On arriving at the town where grew
the unfruitful pear-tree, he was warmly welcomed by the
prince, who at once asked if he had forgotten to question
the stars about the tree.
“I never forget a promise once made,” replied Jean, “but
I doubt whether it will be agreeable to your majesty to know
the cause of the evil.”
He then related all the Moon had said, and when his
directions had been carried out they were rewarded by seeing
the tree blossom immediately. Jean was loaded with rich
gifts, and the king presented him with a most valuable horse,
by means of which he reached home very quickly.
Little Annette was wild with joy on hearing of her lover’s
safe return, for she had wept and suffered much during his
absence. But her father’s feelings were very different; he
wished never to see Jean again, and had, indeed, sent him
in search of the Sun with the hope that he might be burnt
up by the heat. True it is that “Man proposes and God
disposes.” Our young shepherd returned, not only safe
and sound, but with more knowledge than any of his evil-wishers.
For he had learnt why the Sun neither lights nor
warms the earth by night as in the day; also why the Moon
does not give warmth, and only lights up during the night.
Besides all this he had brought with him riches which far
exceeded those of his father-in-law, and a steed full of fire
and vigour.
So Annette’s father could find no fault, and the wedding
was celebrated with joy and feasting. Large quantities of
roasted crane were eaten, and glasses overflowing with mead
were emptied. So beautiful, too, was the music, that for
long, long after it was heard to echo among the mountains,
and even now its sweet sounds are heard at times by travellers
among those regions.