The priest went out to meet him at the gate and asked: “Well, laborer, did you eat your fill?” The laborer answered: “I did.” The priest asked: “And has the dog been fed?” The laborer answered: “He has.” The priest asked: “Is the loaf whole?” The laborer answered: “It is whole, little father.” When the priest examined it, he laughed and said: “Ah, you are a cunning fellow, I see that you will do well. I like you for your cleverness. Stay with me, I need such as you.” And he kept him, adding to the wages agreed upon because he was glad to have got such a smart fellow as a laborer. And the laborer began to roll in butter and to live so well that he hoped he would never die.
THE PEASANT AND THE CORPSE
A PEASANT WAS DRIVING a cart full of pottery. His horse got tired and stopped near a graveyard. The peasant unharnessed it, let it graze, and lay down to rest on a grave, but somehow could not fall asleep. Suddenly the grave under him began to open; feeling this, he jumped to his feet. The grave opened wide, and out of it came a corpse holding a coffin lid and dressed in a white shroud. The corpse ran to the church, put the coffin lid in the doorway, and went to the village. Our peasant was a courageous man; he took the coffin lid and stood near his cart, waiting to see what would happen next.
After a while the corpse came back and discovered that his coffin lid was gone; he began to follow the tracks, reached the peasant, and said: “Give me back my coffin lid or I will tear you to pieces.” “And what is my ax for?” the peasant answered. “I will cut you to pieces myself.” “Please, my good man, give it back to me,” the corpse implored. “I will not give it to you,” said the peasant, “unless you tell me where you have been and what you have done.” “I was in the village, and I killed two young fellows there.” “Now tell me how they can be brought back to life.” Willy-nilly, the corpse had to comply. “Cut the left flap from my shroud,” he said, “and take it with you. When you come to the house of the murdered men, fill a pot with burning coal, put the piece of shroud in it, and close the door. The smoke will bring them back to life at once.” The peasant cut off the left flap of the shroud and returned the coffin lid. The corpse went back to his grave and the grave opened. He began to descend into it, when suddenly the cocks crowed, and he had no time to cover himself properly; one end of the coffin lid remained outside.
The peasant saw and took note of all this. Daybreak came; he harnessed his horse and drove to the village. He heard lamentations and cries in one house; he entered it and found that two young fellows were dead there. “Do not weep,” he said, “I can bring them back to life.” “Do bring them back to life,” said the parents. “We will give you half of our possessions.” The peasant did as the corpse had told him and the two young fellows came back to life. Their families were overjoyed but at once seized the peasant and tied him with ropes. “Now, you wise man,” they said, “we shall take you to the authorities; since you knew how to bring them back to life, you surely killed them too.” “Ah, ye faithful, don’t ye fear God?” cried the peasant, and he told them everything that had happened to him during the night. The villagers were called together, the people went to the graveyard, found the grave from which the corpse had emerged, dug it up, and thrust a spike of aspen wood straight into his heart, so that he could no longer rise up and kill people. The peasant was richly rewarded and allowed to return home in peace.
THE ARRANT FOOL
IN A CERTAIN FAMILY there was an arrant fool. Not a day passed on which they did not receive complaints about him; every day he would either insult someone or injure someone. The fool’s mother pitied him and looked after him as if he were a little child; whenever the fool made ready to go somewhere, she would explain to him for half an hour what he should do and how he should do it. One day the fool went by the threshing barn and saw the peasants threshing peas, and cried to them: “May you thresh for three days and get three peas threshed!” Because he said this the peasants belabored him with their flails. The fool came back to his mother and cried: “Mother, mother, they have beaten up a fellow!” “Was it you, my child?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because I went by Dormidoshkin’s barn and his family were threshing peas there.” “And then, my child?” “And I said to them: ‘May you thresh for three days and get three peas threshed.’ That’s why they beat me up.” “Oh, my child, you should have said: ‘May you have to do this forever and ever.’ ”
The fool was overjoyed. The next day he went to walk in the village and met some people carrying a coffin with a dead man in it. Remembering his mother’s words, he roared in a loud voice: “May you have to carry this forever and ever!” Again he was soundly thrashed. The fool returned to his mother and told her why he had been beaten up. “Ah, my child,” she said, “you should have said: ‘May he rest in peace eternal.’ ” These words sank deep into the fool’s mind.
Next day he happened again to walk in the village and met a gay wedding procession. The fool cleared his throat and as soon as he came up to the procession, he cried: “May you rest in peace eternal!” The drunken peasants jumped down from the cart and beat him up cruelly. The fool went home and cried: “O my dear mother, they’ve beaten me up terribly.” “What for, my child?” The fool told her. His mother said: “My child, you should have danced and played for them.” “Thank you, mother,” he said. He went to the village once more and took his reed pipe with him.
At the end of the village a corn loft was on fire. The fool ran there as fast as he could; he stopped in front of the corn loft and began to dance and to play on his reed pipe. Again he was thrashed. Again he came in tears to his mother and told her why he had been beaten up. His mother said: “You should have taken some water and helped them to quench the fire.” Three days later, when the fool’s sides were healed, he went again to walk in the village. He saw a peasant singeing a pig. The fool snatched a pail of water from a woman who was going by with her cowlstaff, ran to the peasant, and poured water over the fire. Again he was soundly thrashed. Again he returned to his mother and told her why he had been beaten up. Then his mother swore never again to let him go to the village, and until this day he has never gone farther than his own back yard.
LUTONIUSHKA
THERE WAS ONCE an old man who lived with his wife and his son named Lutonia. One day Lutonia and his father were busy in the courtyard while his mother was in the house. She wanted to remove a log from the shelf where it had been put to dry, but by accident dropped it on the hearth. She began to cry and lament in a loud voice. Her husband, hearing her cry, rushed into the house and asked her why she was weeping. The old woman said through her tears: “If our Lutoniushka were married, and if he had had a little son, and if this little son had been sitting near the hearth, I would have hit him with the log.” The old man joined in her lamentations, repeating: “That is true, you would have hit him.” And the old couple kept on crying and lamenting at the top of their lungs.
Lutonia came running from the yard and asked: “Why are you crying?” They told him why: “If you had been married, and if you had had a little son, and if, a few hours ago he had been sitting right here, he would have been killed by the log—it fell just on this spot, and with what a bang!” Lutonia snatched up his cap and said: “Farewell, my parents. If I find anyone more stupid than you, I shall return. If I do not find any such, do not wait for me.” And he went away.
He walked and walked and saw several peasants dragging a cow into a house. “Why are you dragging this cow?” asked Lutonia. They said: “Don’t you see how much grass has grown here?” “Ah,” said Lutonia, “you arrant fools!” He went into the house, plucked out the grass, and threw it to the cow. The peasants were greatly amazed at this and began to ask Lutonia to stay with them and enlighten them. “No,” said Lutonia, “there are many other such fools in the wide world.” And he walked on.
In one village he saw a crowd of peasants standing around a house; they had attached a horse collar to the gate and were trying to drive a horse into the collar; they had tired the horse so that i
t was half dead. “What are you trying to do?” asked Lutonia. “We want to harness this horse, little father,” said the peasants. “Ah, you arrant fools,” said Lutonia, “let me do it for you.” He removed the collar from the gate and put it on the horse. These peasants too were amazed at his feat and entreated him to stay with them for one week at least. But Lutonia refused and walked on.
He walked and walked, got tired, and stopped at an inn. The old hostess prepared a hasty pudding, put it on the table, and then over and over again went to the cellar with a spoon to get some milk. “Old woman, why do you wear out your shoes for nothing?” asked Lutonia. “What do you mean, why?” the old woman answered in a hoarse voice. “Don’t you see, little father, that the hasty pudding is on the table, and the milk is in the cellar?” “You should bring the pot of milk here, old woman, then you would have a much easier time of it.” “That is very true, my good man.” She brought the milk to the room and invited Lutonia to sit at her table. Lutonia ate his fill, climbed upon the stove, and fell asleep. When he awakens, my tale will go on; for the time being it is over.
BARTER
WHILE CLEANING MANURE out of a shed, a peasant found some oats. He went to his wife, who was making a fire in the stove, and said: “Now wife, get busy! Rake up the fire, pour this grain into the stove; then dig it out, pound it and grind it, make a pudding, and put it into dishes; I shall go to the king, bring him a dish of pudding, and he may reward me with something.”
He came to the king, bringing him a dish of pudding; the king rewarded him with a golden heath hen. He started homeward; passing by a field, he saw herdsmen grazing a drove of horses. The herdsmen asked him: “Little peasant, where have you been?” “I have been to see the king and I brought him a dish of pudding.” “And what did the king give you?” “A golden heath hen.” “Exchange your heath hen for a horse.” The peasant made the exchange, mounted the horse, and rode on. He came near a herd of cows. The cowherd said: “Little peasant, where have you been?” “I have been to see the king and I brought him a dish of pudding.” “And what did the king give you?” “A golden heath hen.” “Where is your golden heath hen?” “I exchanged it for a horse.” “Exchange your horse for a cow.”
He made the exchange and led off the cow by her horns. Then he came up to a flock of sheep. The shepherd said: “Little peasant, where have you been?” “I have been to see the king and I brought him a dish of pudding.” “And what did the king give you?” “A golden heath hen.” “Where is your golden heath hen?” “I exchanged it for a horse.” “Where is your horse?” “I exchanged it for a cow.” “Exchange the cow for a sheep.”
The peasant made the exchange and drove off the sheep. He came up to a herd of pigs. The swineherd said: “Little peasant, where have you been?” “I have been to see the king and I brought him a dish of pudding.” “And what did the king give you?” “A golden heath hen.” “Where is your golden heath hen?” “I exchanged it for a horse.” “Where is your horse?” “I exchanged it for a cow.” “Where is the cow?” “I exchanged it for a sheep.” “Exchange the sheep for a pig.”
He made the exchange and drove off the pig. Then he came up to a flock of geese. The gooseherd said: “Little peasant, where have you been?” “I have been to see the king and I brought him a dish of pudding.” “And what did the king give you?” “A golden heath hen.” “Where is your golden heath hen?” “I exchanged it for a horse.” “Where is your horse?” “I exchanged it for a cow.” “Where is the cow?” “I exchanged it for a sheep.” “Where is the sheep?” “I exchanged it for a pig.” “Exchange the pig for a goose.”
He made the exchange and carried away the goose. Then he came up to a flock of ducks. The shepherd asked him: “Little peasant, where have you been?” “I have been to see the king and I brought him a dish of pudding.” “And what did the king give you?” “A golden heath hen.” “Where is your golden heath hen?” “I exchanged it for a horse.” “Where is your horse?” “I exchanged it for a cow.” “Where is the cow?” “I exchanged it for a sheep.” “Where is the sheep?” “I exchanged it for a pig.” “Where is the pig?” “I exchanged it for a goose.” “Exchange the goose for a duck.”
He made the exchange and carried away the duck. Then he came up to some children playing ball with a stick. The children asked him: “Little peasant, where have you been?” “I have been to see the king and I brought him a dish of pudding.” “And what did the king give you?” “A golden heath hen.” “Where is your golden heath hen?” “I exchanged it for a horse.” “Where is your horse?” “I exchanged it for a cow.” “Where is the cow?” “I exchanged it for a sheep.” “Where is the sheep?” “I exchanged it for a pig.” “Where is the pig?” “I exchanged it for a goose.” “Where is your goose?” “I exchanged it for a duck.” “Exchange the duck for a stick.”
He made the exchange and walked on; he came home, put his stick near the gate, and entered the house. His wife began to question him, and he told her everything up until the moment when he acquired the stick. “Where is the stick?” asked his wife. “Near the gate.” She went out, took the stick, and began to belabor him with it, saying: “Don’t exchange things! Don’t exchange things, you old dotard! You should at least have brought the duck home!”
THE GRUMBLING OLD WOMAN
NIGHT AND DAY a certain old stepmother grumbled—one wondered why her tongue did not ache! She grumbled always at her stepdaughter: the girl was not clever enough and not pretty enough; no matter where she went or sat or stood, it was never right, never as it should be! And so the stepmother grumbled from dawn to dark like a gusla all wound up. She wearied her husband to death, and everyone else too felt like running away from the house. One day the husband harnessed a horse to carry millet to town, and his wife cried: “Take your daughter too, take her anywhere you want, to the dark forest, only get her out of my way!”
The old man took his daughter. It was a long and difficult road, with woods and swamps all around; where could he leave the maiden? He spied a little hut on chicken legs, supported by a cake and covered with a pancake; and the little hut turned round and round. He thought it would be best to leave his daughter in this little hut; so he put her down from his cart, gave her some millet for gruel, whipped his horse, and vanished from sight. The maiden remained alone; she pounded some millet and cooked a great deal of gruel, but there was no one to eat it. Night came, long and terrifying; she felt that to sleep would wear out her sides, to look at the dark would tire her eyes, and there was no one to exchange a word with. It was boring and fearsome. She stood on the threshold, opened the door nearest the forest, and called out: “Whoever is in the forest, in the dark night, let him come be my guest!” A wood goblin answered her call and turned into a brave youth, a Novgorod merchant; he came into the little hut and brought a present for his hostess. After that he came in for a chat quite often and sometimes he would bring her a gift; he brought her so many gifts that there was no place to put them.
Meanwhile the grumbling old woman found life empty without her stepdaughter; it was quiet in her house, she felt queasy, and her tongue was parched. “Go, husband,” she said, “get my stepdaughter, raise her up from the bottom of the sea, snatch her out of the fire! I am old, I am sickly, there is no one to tend me.” The husband did as she asked; the stepdaughter returned. When she opened her coffer and hung out her things on a rope that stretched from the house to the gate, the old woman, who had opened her mouth to greet her in her customary abusive way, pursed up her lips, seated the welcome guest under the icon, and said to her civilly: “What is your pleasure, madam?”
THE WHITE DUCK
A CERTAIN PRINCE married a beautiful princess, but before he had had time to feast his eyes upon her and listen to her sweet speech, he was compelled to separate from her, go on a far journey, and leave his wife in the hands of strangers. What was there to do? It is said that you cannot spend your life in embraces. The princess wept a great deal, and the prince comforted
her a great deal, admonishing her not to leave the women’s apartments, not to keep company with evil people, and not to listen to evil words. The princess promised to do all this. The prince departed; the princess locked herself in her room and did not go out.
After a long time or a short time, a woman came to her. She seemed so simple and kindly! “Why are you pining away here?” she said. “You should at least have a peep at God’s world and take a walk in your garden, to dispel your grief and get a breath of fresh air.” For a long time the princess refused, but in the end she thought: “Surely there is no harm in taking a walk in the garden!” And out she went. In the garden there was a spring of crystalline water. “The day is so hot,” said the woman, “the sun is blazing, and the water is cool. It bubbles so invitingly; why should we not bathe in it?” “No, no,” said the princess, “I do not want to!” But then she thought: “There is no harm in having a bath.” She slipped off her gown and jumped into the water. No sooner had she plunged in than the woman struck her on the back, saying: “Swim now as a white duck!” And the princess turned into a white duck. The witch straightway attired herself in the princess’ garment, adorned and painted herself, and sat down to await the prince. As soon as the puppy barked and the little bell rang, she ran out to meet the prince, rushed toward him, kissed him, and fondled him. He was overjoyed, stretched out his arms toward her, and did not realize that she was not his wife.
Meanwhile the white duck laid eggs and hatched its young. Two were handsome and the third a starveling. And her babies grew into little children; she brought them up and they began to swim on the little stream, to catch little goldfish, to gather little rags, to sew little coats, and to jump up on the banks and look at the meadows. “Oh, don’t go there, my children,” the mother said. The children disobeyed her; one day they played in the grass, the next day they ran over the meadow, ever farther and farther, until they reached the prince’s courtyard. The witch recognized them by their smell and gritted her teeth; she called the children, gave them food and drink and put them to sleep, and then ordered a fire to be lighted, kettles to be hung over it, and knives to be sharpened. The two handsome brothers lay down and fell asleep. But the little starveling, whom the mother had ordered them to carry in their bosoms that he might not catch cold—the starveling did not sleep, and heard and saw everything. In the night the witch came to their door and asked: “Are you asleep, little children, or not?” The starveling answered: “We sleep and don’t sleep. We think that someone wants to slaughter us all; a fire of hazel logs is being made, boiling kettles are hanging, steel knives are being sharpened.” “They are not sleeping,” said the witch.
Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) Page 32
