Russian Fairy Tales (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library)

by Afanas'Ev, Aleksandr

  Baba Yaga flung herself on the dogs, the gate, the birch, and the maid, and began to thrash and scold them all. The dogs said to her: “We have served you so long, and you have not even thrown us a burnt crust; but she gave us bread!” The gate said: “I have served you so long, and you have not even poured water on my hinges; but she poured oil!” The birch said: “I have served you so long, and you have not even tied me with a thread; but she tied me with a ribbon!” The maid said: “I have served you so long, and you have not given me even a rag; but she gave me a kerchief!”

  Baba Yaga the Bony-legged jumped on her mortar, goaded it on with her pestle, swept away her tracks with a broom, and flew in pursuit of the girl. The girl put her ear to the ground and heard Baba Yaga coming quite close. She threw her towel—and there was a wide, wide river. Baba Yaga came to the river and gnashed her teeth with rage. She returned home, took her oxen, and drove them to the river; the oxen drank the river clean. Then she set out again in pursuit. The girl put her ear to the ground and heard Baba Yaga coming close. She threw her comb—and there grew up a deep and terrifying forest. Baba Yaga began to gnaw it, but no matter how she tried she could not gnaw through it, and she turned back.

  Meanwhile the old man had come home and asked: “Where is my daughter?” “She has gone to her aunt,” said the stepmother. After a while the girl also came home. “Where have you been?” her father asked her. “Ah, father,” she said, “mother sent me to auntie for a needle and thread to sew me a shirt; but the aunt was Baba Yaga and she wanted to eat me.” “How did you get away, my daughter?” The daughter told him how. When the old man heard all this he grew angry at his wife and shot her to death; and then he and his daughter began to live and prosper. I was there and drank mead and beer; it ran down my mustache, but it never got into my mouth.

  JACK FROST

  THERE WAS ONCE a stepmother who had a stepdaughter and a daughter of her own. At anything her own daughter did, the woman would pat her head and say: “Clever girl!” But no matter how hard the stepdaughter tried, she was always found in the wrong. Yet the truth of the matter was that the stepdaughter was as good as gold; in the proper hands she would have been like cheese in butter, but in her stepmother’s house she bathed in tears every day. What could she do? Even an angry wind subsides at last; but when the old woman got angry she never quieted down, she would hurl one insult after another, and her mouth was so full of venom that her teeth itched.

  One day the stepmother made up her mind to drive her stepdaughter out of the house. She said to her husband: “Take her, take her, old man, take her wherever you wish, so that my eyes do not see her and my ears do not hear her. And don’t take her to the warm house of your kin, but into the open field in the bitter frost.” The old man began to grieve and lament; none the less he put his daughter on a sledge. He wanted to cover her with a horse cloth but did not dare. He took the homeless girl into the open field, set her down on a heap of snow, made the sign of the cross over her, and hastened home as fast as possible, that his eyes might not behold his daughter’s death.

  The poor little thing remained there shivering and softly repeating her prayers. Jack Frost came leaping and jumping and casting glances at the lovely maiden. “Maiden, maiden, I am Jack Frost the Ruby-nosed!” he said. “Welcome, Jack Frost! God must have sent you to save my sinful soul.” Jack Frost was about to crack her body and freeze her to death, but he was touched by her wise words, pitied her, and tossed her a fur coat. She put it on, squatted on her heels, and sat thus. Again Jack Frost the Ruby-nosed came leaping and jumping and casting glances at the lovely maiden. “Maiden, maiden, I am Jack Frost the Ruby-nosed!” he said. “Welcome, Jack Frost! God must have sent you to save my sinful soul.” But Jack Frost had not come to save her soul at all; he brought her a coffer, deep and heavy, full of bedding and petticoats and all sorts of things for her dowry. And she sat on the coffer in her fur coat, so gay, so pretty! Again Jack Frost came leaping and jumping and casting glances at the lovely maiden. She welcomed him and he gave her a robe embroidered with silver and gold. She put it on—and how beautiful and stately she looked! She sat there happily singing songs.

  Meanwhile her stepmother was preparing her funeral dinner and frying pancakes. “Go, husband,” she said, “bring home your daughter, that we may bury her.” The old man went. The little dog under the table said: “Bow-wow, the old man’s daughter is coming home all decked in gold and silver, but no suitor wants the old woman’s daughter!” “Be quiet, you fool! Here is a pancake for you, and now say that suitors will come for the old woman’s daughter, but of the old man’s daughter only bones will be brought home.” The little dog ate the pancake and said again: “Bow-wow! The old man’s daughter is coming home all decked in gold and silver, but the suitors don’t want the old woman’s daughter.” The old woman gave the dog more pancakes and beat him, but he kept saying the same thing: “The old man’s daughter is coming home decked in gold and silver, but the suitors don’t want the old woman’s daughter.”

  The gate creaked, the doors flew wide open, a coffer deep and heavy was brought in, and the stepdaughter followed, radiant, like a grand lady. The stepmother looked at her and threw up her arms. “Old man, old man,” she ordered, “harness other horses, take my daughter at once, put her in the same field, in the very same place!” The old man took the girl to the same field and left her in the very same place. And Jack Frost the Ruby-nosed came, looked at his guest, leapt and jumped, but did not hear any kind words. He grew angry, seized her, and killed her. The old woman said to her husband: “Old man, go bring my daughter. Harness spirited horses—and don’t overturn the sledge, don’t drop the coffer!” But the little dog under the table said: “Bow-wow, the suitors will take the old man’s daughter, but the bones of the old woman’s daughter will be brought home in a sack.” “Don’t lie! here is a pancake for you, and say: ‘The old woman’s daughter is coming home decked in gold and silver.’ ” The gate flew open and the old woman ran out to greet her daughter, but instead she embraced a cold corpse. She began to wail and howl, but it was too late.

  HUSBAND AND WIFE

  THERE WERE ONCE a husband and a wife who seemed to live well. But the wife was an ingenious woman; when the husband went away, she was merry, when he came back she fell ill; she always tried to find work for him to do, to get rid of him; one day she would send him hither, the next day thither, and while he was away she would give little parties and feasts. Her husband would return, find everything clean and in order, and his wife aching and groaning and lying on the bench. The husband believed that she was ill and for his part almost wept. One day she conceived the idea of sending him to get a medicine in Krimgrad. The husband went. On the way he met a soldier, who asked: “Whither are you going, peasant?” “To Krimgrad to get a medicine.” “Who is sick?” “My wife.” “Go back, go back without fail; I am an expert healer myself, I will go with you.” Then he commanded: “Left, turn!” Soon they found themselves near the peasant’s barn. “Have your wife sit up,” said the expert. “I will find out how sick she is.”

  The husband entered the courtyard, put his ear to the door, and heard sounds of games, dances, and merriment. The soldier’s heart boiled, he struck the door, and it opened. The wife was moving about like a swan, a young fellow capered in front of her, green wine was flowing on the table. The soldier came just in time; he drank a cup of wine and began to cut capers. The wife found him to her liking. What a soldier, what a handsome fellow—and so keen, so clever, as though he had lived there all his life! Yes, tomorrow there would be cakes to bake. “Soldier,” she said, “go to the barn, bring a bundle of straw.”

  The soldier went, gathered the straw, wrapped the husband in it, tied it with a rope, slung it over his shoulders, and brought it to the wife. She was glad and intoned a song: “The husband went to Krimgrad, to buy healing herbs, to cure the wife’s belly with plants. He will never get there, he will never come back. Hey, soldier, accompany me!” The soldier began h
is song: “Do you hear, straw, what’s going on here?” “Oh, your song is no good, mine is better. Let us sing it together! The husband went to Krimgrad, to buy healing herbs, to cure the wife’s belly with plants.” She sang loudly, and the soldier sang even more loudly: “Do you hear, straw, what’s going on here? The whip is hanging on the wall, and it should be on a back!” The straw heard and wriggled; the rope burst, the husband jumped out, snatched the whip, and began to belabor his wife. He cured her in no time.

  LITTLE SISTER FOX AND THE WOLF

  THERE WAS ONCE an old man who lived with his wife. He said to her: “Woman, do you bake cakes, while I go fishing.” He caught fish and carried home a whole cartful of them. As he drove along, he spied a fox lying wound up like a cracknel on the road. The old man got down from his cart and came close to the fox, but she did not stir; she lay like one dead. “This will be a gift for my wife,” said the old man, and he took the fox, and put her in the cart, and he himself walked in front of it. The fox chose the right moment and began quietly to throw one fish after the other out of the cart. She threw out all the fish and then ran away. “Well, old woman,” said the old man, “I have brought you a fine collar for your fur coat.” “Where?” “There in the cart you will find both the fish and the collar.” The woman went to the cart and found neither collar nor fish. She began to abuse her husband: “Ah, you old dotard, you fool! You want to cheat me!” Only then did the old man realize that the fox was not dead; he grieved and grieved, but there was nothing that he could do.

  Meanwhile the fox gathered up in a pile all the fish scattered on the road, sat down, and began to eat them. A wolf came by and said: “Good day, neighbor!” “Good day, neighbor,” answered the fox. “Give me some fish,” said the wolf. “Catch it yourself, then you can eat.” “But I don’t know how.” “Eh, I did it. All you have to do, neighbor, is to go to the river and drop your tail into a hole in the ice; the fish will hook themselves to your tail. But sit for a long time, else you won’t catch enough.” The wolf went to the river and dropped his tail into a hole in the ice, for it was wintertime. He sat and sat; he sat through the night, and his tail was frozen in; he tried to raise himself, but could not. “Eh,” he thought, “so much fish has got hooked to my tail that I cannot pull it out!” Suddenly he saw women coming to fetch water. Seeing the gray wolf, they began to cry: “A wolf, a wolf! Hit him, hit him!” They ran up to him and began to belabor him, some with cowlstaffs, some with pails, others with whatever they had in hand. The wolf jumped and jumped, tore off his tail, and took to his heels without looking back. “I’ll remember that, neighbor,” he thought. “I’ll pay you back in kind!”

  Meanwhile Little Sister Fox, having eaten enough fish, decided to see whether she could not steal something else. She got into a house where women were frying pancakes, stuck her head into a tub of dough, smeared herself, and ran away. The wolf met her. “So that’s the way you teach me?” he said. “I was roundly beaten for my pains.” “Eh, neighbor,” said Little Sister Fox, “all you have lost is some blood. But I have had my brains beaten out of me, and it was much more painful; I can hardly hobble along.” “That’s true,” said the wolf. “How can you walk in this condition? Better sit on me, I will carry you home.” The fox sat on his back and he carried her. Little Sister Fox, while sitting on the wolf’s back, began to whisper: “The beaten one is carrying the unbeaten one, the beaten one is carrying the unbeaten one.” “What are you saying, neighbor?” “I am saying, the beaten one is carrying the beaten one.” “Very true, neighbor, very true.”

  “Now, neighbor, let’s build huts for ourselves,” said the fox. “Let’s, neighbor.” “I will build myself a hut of linden bark, and you build yourself one of ice.” They set to work, and built huts for themselves, one of linden bark for the fox and one of ice for the wolf, and lived in them. Spring came and the wolf’s hut melted away. “Ah, neighbor,” said the wolf, “you have cheated me again; for that I must eat you up.” “Come, neighbor, we will make a trial to see who will eat whom.” Little Sister Fox took him to a woods near a deep pit and said: “Jump! If you jump across this pit, you shall eat me; if not, I will eat you.” The wolf jumped and fell into the pit. “Well,” said the fox, “sit there!” And she went away.

  She walked along carrying a rolling pin in her paw and asked a peasant to give her shelter in his house. “Let Little Sister Fox spend the night with you,” she said. “We are crowded even without you,” said the peasant. “I won’t disturb you; I’ll lie on the bench and put my tail under it and the rolling pin under the stove.” She was allowed to come in. She lay on the bench with her tail under it and put the rolling pin under the stove. Early next morning she got up, burned her rolling pin, and then asked: “Where is my rolling pin? I would not take even a goose for it!” The peasant had no choice but to give her a goose for the lost rolling pin. The fox took the goose and walked away singing:

  Little Sister Fox

  Walked on the road

  Carrying a rolling pin

  And swapped it for a goose.

  Knock, knock, knock! She knocked at another peasant’s door. “Who’s there?” the peasant called out. “I, Little Sister Fox. Please give me shelter for the night.” “We are crowded even without you.” “I won’t disturb you; I’ll lie on the bench and put my tail under it and the goose under the stove.” She was allowed to come in. She lay on the bench with her tail under the bench and put the goose under the stove. Early next morning she got up, took her goose, plucked it and ate it, and said: “Where is my goose? I would not take even a turkey for it!” The peasant had no choice but to give her a turkey. She took it and walked away singing:

  Little Sister Fox

  Walked on the road

  Carrying a rolling pin;

  She swapped it for a goose,

  And the goose for a turkey.

  Knock, knock, knock! She knocked at the door of a third peasant. “Who’s there?” the peasant called out. “I, Little Sister Fox. Please give me shelter for the night!” “We are crowded even without you.” “I won’t disturb you; I’ll lie on the bench and put my tail under it and the turkey under the stove.” She was allowed to come in. She lay on the bench with her tail under the bench and put the turkey under the stove. Early next morning she got up, took her turkey, plucked it and ate it, and said: “Where is my turkey? I would not take even a maiden for it!” The peasant had no choice but to give her a maiden. The fox put her in a bag and walked away singing:

  Little Sister Fox

  Walked on the road

  Carrying a rolling pin;

  She swapped it for a goose,

  The goose for a turkey,

  The turkey for a maiden!

  Knock, knock, knock! She knocked at the door of a fourth peasant. “Who’s there?” the peasant called out. “I, Little Sister Fox. Please give me shelter for the night!” “We are crowded even without you.” “I won’t disturb you; I’ll lie on the bench and put my tail under the bench and my bag under the stove.” She was allowed to come in. She lay on the bench with her tail under it and put her bag under the stove. The peasant quietly let the maiden out of the bag and shoved in his dog in place of her. Next morning Little Sister Fox made ready to go, took her bag, walked on the road, and said: “Maiden, sing me a song!” The dog began to howl. The fox took fright, flung away the bag with the dog in it, and took to her heels.

  The fox ran and ran till she beheld a cock perched on a gate. She said to him: “Little cock, little cock, come down, I’ll hear your confession—you have seventy wives, you have always been a sinner.” The cock climbed down and she snatched him and gobbled him up.

  THE THREE KINGDOMS, COPPER, SILVER, AND GOLDEN

  IN A CERTAIN KINGDOM in a certain land lived a king named Byel Byelanin. He had a wife, Nastasya the Golden-tressed, and three sons, the princes Piotr, Vasily, and Ivan. One day the queen went to walk in the garden with her ladies-in-waiting and tirewomen. Suddenly a mighty whirlwind arose and—God preserve u
s!—it seized the queen and carried her off no one knew whither.

  The king was grieved and distressed and did not know what to do. When the princes grew up, he said to them: “My beloved children, which of you will set out to seek his mother?” The elder brothers made ready and set out, and then the youngest son too begged his father to let him go. “No,” said the king, “go not, my little son! do not leave me a lone old man.” “Give me leave, father! I greatly long to wander over the white world and find my mother.” The king tried hard to dissuade him but could not. Then he said: “Well, there is nothing to be done, so go, and God be with you.”

  Prince Ivan saddled his good steed and set out. He rode and rode, for a long time or a short time. Speedily a tale is spun, with much less speed a deed is done. Finally he came to a forest. In that forest stood a most splendid castle. Prince Ivan drove into the wide courtyard, saw an old man, and said: “Long life to you, old man!” “You are welcome here! Who are you, brave youth?” “I am Prince Ivan, the son of King Byel Byelanin and Queen Nastasya the Golden-tressed.” “Ah, my own nephew! Whither is God taking you?” “I am traveling in search of my mother,” he said. “Can you not tell me, uncle, where to find her?” “No, my nephew, I know not. But I will help you if I can. Here is a ball. Throw it before you; it will roll and lead you to high, steep mountains. In those mountains is a cave; enter it, take iron claws, put them on your hands and feet, and climb up the mountain. Perhaps there you will find your mother, Nastasya the Golden-tressed.”