The godmother and her daughters were amazed and decided to rob the old man of his sack. The godmother said to her daughters: “Go, heat up a bath; perhaps my godson will steam himself a little.” As soon as he went to the bath, the godmother commanded her daughters to sew up a sack exactly like the old man’s; they sewed it, put it in the place of the old man’s, and took his own for themselves. The old man came out of the bath, took the new sack, and cheerfully went home to his wife. While still in the yard he called in a loud voice: “Old woman, old woman, come to meet me and my son the crane!” The old woman cast a quick glance at him and muttered between her teeth: “Just wait, old dog, till I get after you with this oven fork.” But the old man kept repeating: “Old woman, come to meet we with my son, the crane!” He entered the hut, hung the sack on a hook, and cried: “Two out of the sack!” No one came out. He cried again: “Two out of the sack!” Again no one came out. The old woman thought he was raving, seized a wet broom, and began to belabor him.
The old man became frightened, wept, and went back into the field. Out of nowhere the crane appeared, saw his misfortune, and said: “Come, little father, come again to my house.” So they went. Another sack just like the first one hung on the wall. “Two out of the sack!” said the crane. Two men climbed out of the sack and served a magnificent dinner, just as the other men had done. “Take this sack,” the crane said to the old man. He took it and went home; he walked and walked along the road, got hungry, and, as the crane had told him to, said: “Two out of the sack!” Two strong men with big sticks climbed out of the sack and began to thrash him, saying: “Go not to the godmother, steam not in the bath!” They thrashed and thrashed him until he managed to say: “Two into the sack!” The moment he said this the two men went back into the sack.
The old man took the sack and went on; he came to the same godmother, hung his sack on a hook, and said: “Heat a bath for me.” She did. He went to the bath, steaming himself a little, but mainly passing the time away. The godmother called her daughters and told them to sit down, for she was hungry. “Two out of the sack!” said she. Two strong men with big sticks climbed out of the sack and began to thrash the godmother, saying: “Return the old man’s sack!” They thrashed and thrashed her. Then she said to her eldest daughter: “Go and call my godson from the bath; tell him that the two men have beaten me up!” “I have not steamed myself yet,” answered the old man. And they thrashed her with more blows, saying: “Return the old man’s sack!” The godmother sent her second daughter, saying: “Hurry, bring my godson back into the room.” He answered: “I have not yet washed my head!” The godmother could not bear it any longer; she ordered her daughter to bring back the stolen sack. Then the old man came out of the bathroom, saw his old sack, and said: “Two into the sack!” The two men with the sticks went back into it.
The old man took both sacks, the punishing one and the kindly one, and went home. While he was still in the yard he called to his wife: “Come, meet me and my son the crane!” She cast a quick glance at him and said: “Just wait till you come into the hut, I’ll thrash you!” The old man came into the room and called to his wife: “Sit down!” Then he said: “Two out of the sack!” The two men climbed out of the sack and served food and drink. The old woman ate and drank her fill and praised her husband: “Well, old man, now I won’t thrash you!” The old man, having eaten, went into the yard, put the kindly sack into the larder, hung the punishing one on a hook, and walked about in the yard, not so much to walk as to pass the time.
The old woman wanted to drink some more, so she repeated the words she had heard her husband say: “Two out of the sack!” Two men with big sticks climbed out of the sack and began to thrash the old woman; and they thrashed her so hard that she could bear it no longer. She called her husband: “Old man, old man, come into the hut, the two men are beating me up!” But he walked around, laughing and saying: “They’ll show you how it’s done!” The two men thrashed the old woman even harder, repeating: “Don’t thrash your husband! Don’t thrash your husband!” At last the old man took pity on her, came in, and said: “Two into the sack!” And the two men disappeared into the sack. From that time on the old man and his wife lived in such peace and friendship that he always boasted of her goodness, and that is the end of the story.
THE MAN WHO DID NOT KNOW FEAR
IN A CERTAIN KINGDOM there lived a merchant’s son, strong and brave, who from his youth had never feared anything; he wanted to know fear and set forth to travel through the world with a laborer. After a long time or a short time, they came to a thick forest and at this moment, as though by design, night fell. “Drive into the forest,” said the merchant’s son. “Eh, master,” said the laborer, “it is fearsome to drive there; it is night, and we may be attacked by beasts or assailed by robbers.” “Are you afraid, or what? Do what I order you to do,” said the merchant’s son.
They drove into the forest and after a while they saw a corpse hanging on a tree. The laborer was even more frightened than before, but the merchant’s son remained calm; he removed the corpse from the tree, put it in his carriage, and ordered the laborer to drive on. After an hour or two they came to a big house; in its windows there were lights. “That is fine,” said the merchant’s son. “We have a shelter for the night.” But the laborer objected: “I would rather spend the night in the woods than in this house; we might fall into robbers’ hands; they will rob us of everything we have and we may even lose our lives.” In fact, robbers did live in that house; but the merchant’s son refused to heed the laborer’s words, opened the gate himself, and drove into the courtyard. He unharnessed his horses and, taking the laborer with him, walked into the house.
They found the robbers sitting around a big table, all of them richly dressed, with fine sabers at their belts, drinking a variety of drink and eating fish. “Good evening, gentlemen,” the merchant’s son said to them. “Invite me to your table to eat and drink with you.” The robbers looked at him, wondering what kind of man he was, and did not answer. The uninvited guests came to the table. The merchant’s son took a piece of fish, ate it, and said: “Well, gentlemen, your fish is no good at all! Eh, laborer, bring that white sturgeon we have in our carriage.” The laborer went out and brought the corpse. The merchant’s son put the corpse on the table, cut off a piece of it with a knife, smelled it, and cried: “No, that sturgeon is no good either. Laborer, catch some live fish!” And he pointed at the robbers, who in their fright scattered in all directions and hid wherever they could. “Well, you were frightened,” said the merchant’s son to the laborer. “But what is there to fear? Let us sit down and have our supper.” They sat down, ate and drank, but did not stay for the night; they harnessed their horses and continued on their way.
They came to a graveyard. “Stop,” said the merchant’s son. “We will spend the night here.” Again the laborer protested: “It is terrible here, the dead rise up at night.” “Ah, what kind of fellow are you?” said the merchant’s son. “You are afraid of everything.” They stopped and lay down to rest on a grave. The merchant’s son fell asleep but the laborer could not sleep. Suddenly a dead man in a white shroud, who seemed of enormous size, rose from that grave; he fell upon the merchant’s son and began to strangle him. The merchant’s son awoke, knocked the dead man under him, and began in turn to beat and torment him in every possible way. The dead man suffered blow after blow and finally began to beg for grace. “I might let you go,” said the merchant’s son, “if you promise to bring me within the hour the daughter of such and such a king who lives beyond the thrice ninth land.” “I will bring her—only let me go!” said the dead man. The merchant’s son let him go, and an hour later a sleeping princess appeared near his carriage, on the same bed in which she ordinarily rested in her royal palace. The merchant’s son did not rouse the princess but waited till she awoke by herself; and upon his return home he made her his lawful wife.
The merchant’s son traveled a great deal in various lands but never e
xperienced fear; he came home, and this is what happened to him one day. He had a great passion for fishing; he spent entire nights and days on the river. His mother greatly disliked his being away from home for such long stretches of time and she asked the fishermen to frighten him somehow. The fishermen caught perches and, seizing an opportunity when the merchant’s son dozed off in his boat, quietly sailed toward him and put a few perches in his bosom. The perches began to wriggle; the merchant’s son awoke, was frightened, and fell into the water, but managed to save himself. Then for the first time he learned what it means to be afraid.
THE MERCHANT’S DAUGHTER AND THE MAIDSERVANT
THERE WAS ONCE a very wealthy merchant who had a marvelously beautiful daughter. This merchant carried goods to various provinces, and one day he came to a certain kingdom and brought precious cloths to the king as a gift. The king said to him: “Why can I not find a bride for myself?” The merchant answered: “I have a beautiful daughter, and she is so clever that no matter what a man is thinking, she can guess it.” The king immediately wrote a letter and called his guards. “Go to that merchant’s house,” he told them, “and deliver this letter to the merchant’s daughter.” The letter said: “Make ready to get married.” The merchant’s daughter took the letter, burst into tears, and prepared to go, taking also her maidservant; and no one could distinguish this maid from the merchant’s daughter, they were so like each other.
They dressed in dresses that were alike and went to the king for the marriage. The maid was full of spite, and said: “Let us take a walk on the island.” They went to the island; there the maidservant gave the merchant’s daughter sleeping potions, cut out her eyes, and put them in her pocket. Then she came to the guards and said: “Gentlemen of the guard, my maidservant has gone to sea.” They answered: “We need only you, we have no use for that peasant girl.” They went to the king; he married the maid at once, and they began to live together. The king thought to himself: “The merchant must have cheated me; she cannot be a merchant’s daughter. Why is she so ignorant? She does not know how to do anything.”
Meanwhile the merchant’s daughter recovered from the illness that her maid had brought upon her. She could not see; she could only hear and she heard an old man tending cattle. She said to him: “Where are you, grandfather?” “I live in a little hut.” “Please take me into your hut.” The old man took her in. She said to the old man: “Little grandfather, drive out the cattle.” He heeded her and drove away the cattle. She sent the old man to a shop, saying: “Get velvet and silk on credit.” The old man went; none of the wealthy merchants would give him goods on credit but a poor shopkeeper gave him some. He brought the velvet and silk to the blind maiden. She said to him: “Little grandfather, lie down to sleep. As for me, day and night are one and the same.” And she began to sew a royal crown of velvet and silk; she embroidered such a beautiful crown that it was a pleasure to behold it. Next morning the blind maiden roused the old man and said: “Go and take this to the king, and for payment accept only an eye. And fear not, no matter what they do to you.”
The old man went to the palace with the crown. Everyone admired it and wanted to buy it from him, but the old man asked for an eye in payment. Straightway the king was told that he was asking for an eye. The king came out, was delighted with the crown, and began to bargain for it, but the old man still asked for an eye. The king began to curse and threatened to put him in prison; but no matter what the king said, the old man held his ground. Then the king cried to his guards: “Go and cut out an eye from a captive soldier.” Just then his wife, the queen, rushed out, took an eye from her pocket, and gave it to the king. The king was overjoyed. “Ah, you have helped me out, little queen!” he said, and gave the eye to the old man, who took it, left the palace, and returned to his hut.
The blind maiden asked him: “Did you get my eye, little grandfather?” He said: “I did.” She took it from him, went outside at twilight, spat upon it, put it into its socket, and was able to see once more. Then again she sent the old man to the shops, giving him money, and asked him to pay what he owed for the silk and velvet and to bring more velvet and gold thread. He got what he needed from the poor shopkeeper and brought these things to the merchant’s daughter. She sat down to sew another crown, finished it, and sent the old man to the same king. “Do not take anything,” she told him, “but an eye. And if you are asked where you got this crown, answer only: ‘God gave it to me.’ ”
The old man came to the palace. There everyone was amazed, for although the first crown was beautiful, the second was even lovelier. The king said: “I will buy it from you at any price.” “Give me an eye,” said the old man. The king at once ordered a guard to cut away an eye from a prisoner; but his wife again gave him an eye. The king was overjoyed and thanked her, saying: “Ah, little mother, you have been a great help to me!” The king asked the old man: “Where do you get these crowns?” He answered: “God gives them to me.” And he left the palace. He came to his hut and gave the eye to the blind maiden. She again went outside at twilight, spat on the eye, put it in its socket, and could see with both eyes. She lay down to sleep in the hut, but upon awakening she suddenly found herself in a glass house and began to live in magnificent style.
The king went to see this marvel, wondering who had built such a fine house. He drove into the yard and the merchant’s daughter was delighted. She received him hospitably and bade him sit down at table. He feasted there and upon leaving asked the maiden to come to see him. He returned to his palace and said to his queen: “Ah, little mother, what a house there is in such and such a place! And what a maiden there is in it! No matter what one is thinking, she knows it.” The queen guessed who it was and thought to herself: “It must be the same maiden whose eyes I cut out.”
The king again went to visit the maiden, and the queen was full of spite. The king came, feasted, and invited her to his palace. She began to make ready and said to the old man: “Farewell! Here is a chest of money; you will never reach its bottom, it will always be full. You will go to sleep in this glass house, but you will awaken in your old hut. Now I am going to make a visit. I shall not be alive tomorrow; I shall be killed and cut into little pieces. Arise in the morning, make a coffin, gather my remains, and bury them.”
The old man wept for her. Soon the guards came, seated her in a carriage, and drove away. They brought her to the king’s palace, and the queen did not even look at her; she wanted to shoot her on the spot. She went out into the courtyard and said to the guards: “When you bring this maiden home, cut her into little pieces at once, take out her heart, and bring it to me.” They took the merchant’s daughter home and talked to her glibly, but she knew what they wanted to do and said to them: “Cut me up quickly.” They cut her in pieces, took out her heart, buried her in the ground, and returned to the palace. The queen came out to meet them, took the heart, rolled it up into an egg, and put it in her pocket.
The old man went to sleep in a glass house but awoke in a hut and burst into tears. He wept and wept, then he set about his appointed task. He made a coffin and went to seek the maiden; he found her in the earth, dug her up, gathered all the pieces, put them in the coffin, and buried them in his own land. The king did not know of all this, so he went again to visit the merchant’s daughter. When he arrived at the place, there was no house, no maiden; but at the spot where she was buried a garden had grown. He returned to the palace and told the queen: “I drove and drove, but I found neither house nor maiden, only a garden.” When the queen heard this she went into the courtyard and said to the guards: “Go and cut that garden down.” They came to the garden and began to cut it but it turned into stone.
The king longed to see the garden again and went to that place. When he came he beheld a boy there—and what a handsome boy he was! “Surely some lord went for a drive and lost him here,” he thought. He took the boy to his palace and said to his queen: “Mind you, little mother, do not maltreat him.” Meanwhile the boy began to cry
and there was no way of appeasing him: no matter what they gave him, he kept on crying. Then the queen took from her pocket the egg she had made from the maiden’s heart and gave it to the boy; he ceased crying and began to skip around the rooms. “Ah, little mother,” said the king to the queen, “you have made him happy.”
The boy ran to the yard and the king ran after him; the boy ran into the street and the king ran into the street; the boy ran to the field and the king ran to the field; the boy ran to the garden and the king ran to the garden. There the king saw the maiden and was overjoyed. She said to him: “I am your bride, the merchant’s daughter, and your queen is my maidservant.”
They went to the palace. The queen fell at her feet. “Forgive me,” she said. “You have never forgiven me,” said the merchant’s daughter. “Once you cut out my eyes, and then you ordered me cut in little pieces.” The king said: “Guards, cut out her eyes and let her be dragged by a horse over the field.” The maidservant’s eyes were cut out, she was tied to a horse, and dragged to her death over the open field. And the king began to live happily with the young queen and to prosper. The king always delighted in her and dressed her in gold.
THE PRIEST’S LABORER
IN A CERTAIN VILLAGE a priest hired a laborer and sent him to plow a field with his dog. He gave him a whole loaf of bread and said to him: “Here, laborer, eat your fill yourself, let the dog eat his fill, and bring back the loaf whole.”
The laborer took the loaf, went to the field, and began to plow. He plowed and plowed; then it seemed to him that it was time to still his hunger, for his stomach was all hollow. But how could he eat without disobeying the priest’s orders? However, hunger is not to be trifled with, it teaches a man to be cunning. And so the laborer concocted a plan. He removed the upper crust of his loaf, picked out all the soft part, ate his fill and fed the dog, then put the crust back as it was before. He plowed on cheerfully until nightfall as though nothing had happened. At nightfall he went home.
Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) Page 31