Beauty and the Beast

by Maria Tatar

  The two older brothers appeared with their wives, beautiful, bright, and cheerful women who were dressed in lovely dresses. Both of the happy bridegrooms made fun of Ivan.

  “Why are you alone, brother?” they said to him as they burst out laughing. “Why didn’t you bring your wife along with you? Didn’t you have any rags to cover her? How could you have found such a beauty? We are willing to bet that you could not find another one like her in all the swamps around here.” They could not stop laughing.

  Suddenly, what a noise there was! The palace trembled, and the guests were all terrified. Ivan alone stayed quiet and said, “There is no danger at all. It’s just my little frog arriving in her little box.”

  A golden carriage drawn by six splendid white horses pulled up to the red porch, and Vasilisa, beautiful beyond all description, gently reached for her husband’s hand. He escorted her to the heavy oak tables, which were covered with snow-white linen and loaded with the wonderful dishes that are served only in the land of the fairies and nowhere else. The guests were all chatting in a lively way while they were eating.

  Vasilisa drank some wine and then poured what was left in the goblet into her left sleeve. She ate some of the fried swan and threw the bones into her right sleeve. The wives of the two older brothers watched and did exactly what she did.

  Once the long, hearty dinner was over, the guests began dancing and singing. The beautiful Vasilisa stepped out from the crowd, bright as a star, bowed to the tsar, bowed to the honorable guests, and then danced with her husband Ivan.

  While dancing, Vasilisa waved her left sleeve and a pretty lake appeared right there in the hall and cooled the air. She waved her right sleeve and white swans swam on the water. The tsar, his guests, the servants, even the gray cat sitting in the corner were all astonished and filled with wonder as they watched the beautiful Vasilisa. The two sisters-in-law were filled with envy. When their turn came to dance, they also waved their left sleeves as Vasilisa had done, and oh, wonder! Wine was splashed all around. They waved their right sleeves and, instead of swans swimming, bones flew in the face of the tsar. The tsar grew angry and asked them to leave the palace.

  In the meantime, Ivan looked for an opportunity to slip away unseen. He ran home, found the frog skin, and burned it in the fire.

  When Vasilisa returned, she searched everywhere for the skin. She could not find it, and her beautiful face grew sad, and her bright eyes filled with tears.

  She turned to Ivan and said, “Oh, dear husband, what have you done? I only had to wear that ugly frog skin for a little while longer. The moment was fast approaching when we could have lived happily together forever. Now I must say farewell. Search for me in a distant land to which no one has directions, at the palace of Kostshei the Deathless.” Vasilisa turned into a white swan and flew out through the window.

  Ivan wept bitter tears. Then he prayed and made the sign of the cross to the north, to the south, to the east, and to the west.

  No one knows how long he was on the road, but one day he met an old man. He bowed, and the man said, “Good day, my brave fellow. Where are you going and what are you searching for?”

  Ivan answered with the truth, revealing everything about his bad luck, without hiding anything.

  “Why on earth did you burn the frog skin? It was wrong to do that. Now listen to me. Vasilisa was born wiser than her own father. He envied her wisdom and condemned her to live as a frog for three long years. I feel sorry for you and want to help you. Here is a magic ball. Take it, let it roll, and follow it without fear.”

  Ivan thanked the good old man and followed the ball, which became his new guide. The road stretched out endlessly. One day in a field of flowers he met a bear, a big Russian bear. Ivan took out his bow and arrows and was about to shoot the bear.

  “Do not kill me, kind Ivan,” the bear said. “Who knows? I may be able to help you one day.” And Ivan did not shoot the bear.

  A lovely white duck flew up in the sky over Ivan’s head. Ivan drew his bow and was about to shoot it when the duck said, “Don’t kill me, dear prince. I may be able to help you one day.”

  Ivan did as the duck had said and continued on his way. He saw in his path a hare, and was about to shoot when the gray hare said, “Don’t kill me, brave prince. I may be able to show my gratitude sometime soon.”

  The prince did not shoot the hare and continued on his way. He followed the rolling ball until he reached the deep blue sea. On the sand there lay a fish, and this big fish was dying.

  “Oh, Ivan!” the fish pleaded. “Have mercy on me and put me back into the cool waters.”

  Ivan did as the fish asked and continued walking along the shore. He followed the ball, which was still rolling, and it led him to a hut, a mysterious little hut standing on tiny chicken feet.

  “Izboushka! Izboushka!”—for that’s the Russian name for small huts. “Izboushka, I want you to turn your door to me,” Ivan cried, and lo! The tiny hut turned its front entrance to him. Ivan walked in and saw a witch, the ugliest witch he could imagine.

  “Ho, Ivan! What brings you here?” the witch asked him.

  “Oh, you old mischief-maker!” Ivan shouted. “Is this the way to greet a guest before he gets something to eat, something to drink, and some hot water to wash the dust off?”

  Baba Yaga, the witch, gave Ivan plenty to eat and drink, along with some hot water to wash the dust off him. Ivan soon felt refreshed and became talkative, telling Baba Yaga the wonderful story of his marriage. He told her how he had lost his dear wife, and that all he wanted to do now was to find her.

  “I’ve heard all about it,” the witch replied. “Right now she is at the palace of Kostshei the Deathless, and I’m sure you know how terrifying he is. He watches her day and night, and no one has ever defeated him. The only way to kill him is with a magic needle. The needle is hidden in a hare, and the hare is in a large trunk, and the trunk is hidden in the branches of an old oak tree, and the oak tree is watched by Kostshei as closely as Vasilisa herself, which means closer than any treasure he owns.”

  Then the witch told Ivan where to find the oak tree and how. Ivan went there as fast as he could, but when he saw the oak tree he was discouraged, for he had no idea what to do and how to begin his work. Lo and behold! That old friend of his, the Russian bear, happened to come by just then, sized up the tree, uprooted it, and the trunk fell to the ground and broke in two. A hare jumped out of the trunk and began to run away, but another hare, Ivan’s friend, went running after it, caught it, and tore it to pieces. From the hare there flew a duck, a gray one that soared up into the air until it was almost invisible. The beautiful white duck pursued it, struck it with its wings, and the gray duck dropped an egg, which fell into the deep sea. Ivan watched it all happening, and when the egg disappeared into the blue waters he could not stop himself from weeping. All of a sudden a big fish came swimming up, the same fish he had saved, with the egg in its mouth. How happy Ivan was when he had it in his hands. He broke it in two and found the needle inside, the magic needle on which everything depended.

  At just that moment Kostshei lost his strength and his power. Ivan entered his vast domain and killed him with the magic needle. In one of the palaces he found his dear wife, the beautiful Vasilisa. He took her back home, and they lived happily ever after.

  THE PERI WIFE

  Hindu-Persian

  This tale, from a Hindu-Persian source, features a Peri rather than an animal bride. In Persian mythology, Peris are winged sprites that occupy a border zone between good and evil spirits. Their radiant beauty comes in part from their association with fire. Depicted as half human and half avian, they are in some ways the aerial counterparts to mermaids.

  The son of a merchant in the city of Hindustan was driven out of his father’s house because of his undutiful conduct. He assumed the garb of a kalenderee or wandering dervish and left his native village. On the
first day of his travels, overcome with fatigue before he could reach a place to rest, he turned off the high road and sat down under a tree near a pond. While he was sitting there, the sun began to set, and he caught sight of four doves flitting down from the branch of a tree at the edge of the pond. They removed their clothes and turned into women (for they were Peris), and they splashed around in the water.

  The young man edged, unnoticed, over to the pond, took the garments they had been wearing, and then hid them in the hollow of a tree. He concealed himself behind the tree. When the Peris emerged from the water and discovered that their clothes were missing, they were distressed beyond measure. They ran in all directions looking for their clothes, but in vain. Finally they found the young man and realized that he must have their garments, and they pleaded with him, asking him to restore what he had taken. He would consent under one condition—that one of them would become his wife. The Peris insisted that a union like that was impossible, for their bodies were formed through fire, while mortals were made of clay and water. But he persisted and said he wanted to marry the youngest and most beautiful among them. The Peris finally had to give their consent. They tried to console their sister, who shed copious tears at the thought of parting from them and spending her days with a son of Adam. Once the others were given back their clothes, they took leave of her and flew away.

  The young merchant took home his beautiful bride and gave her magnificent clothes. He hid the clothing she had worn in a secret place so that she would not be able to leave him. He made every effort to win her affection and at length he was successful.

  She placed her foot in the path of respect,

  And her head on the carpet of affection.

  She bore him children, and gradually she began to enjoy the company of his female relatives and neighbors. All his concerns about her affection vanished, and he grew confident of her love and attachment to him.

  Ten years later, the merchant was in financial straits, and he found it necessary to take a long voyage. He committed the Peri to the care of an aged matron, in whom he had the greatest trust and to whom he revealed the secret of his wife’s true nature. He showed the matron where he had concealed the enchanted garments. He then placed the foot of departure in the stirrup of travel, and set out on his journey. The Peri, overwhelmed with sorrow, whether because of his absence or for some secret reason, talked endlessly about her feelings of remorse. The old woman tried to comfort her, assuring her that:

  The dark night of absence would soon come to an end,

  And the bright dawn of interview gleam from the horizon of divine bounty.

  One day, after bathing, the Peri was drying her amber-scented tresses with a corner of her veil, when the old woman could not stop herself from expressing admiration for her dazzling beauty. “Ah, nurse,” she replied, “you may admire my charms, yet if you ever saw me in my native garb, you would have the chance to discover what beauty and grace the Divine Creator bestowed on Peris. We are among the most perfect portraits on the tablets of existence. I want you to see for yourself the skills of the divine artist and admire the wonders of creation. Bring me the robes that my husband hid away. I’ll put them on for just a moment and show you my true beauty, the like of which no human eye but the Creator’s has seen.”

  The simple woman agreed and fetched the robes for the Peri, who put them on. Then, like a bird that had suddenly escaped from its cage, she spread her wings, and crying Farewell, soared up to the sky and was seen no more. When the merchant returned from the voyage:

  And found no signs of the rose of enjoyment on the tree of hope,

  But the lamp of bliss lay extinguished in the chamber of joy.

  He became as one Peri-stricken, a recluse in the cell of madness. Banished from the path of reason, he remained lost to all the bounties of fortune and the useful purposes of life.

  ANIMAL GROOMS

  THE CONDOR AND THE SHEPHERDESS

  Bolivia

  Using the pretext of a pourquoi tale, or origins story, about how parrots came into being, “The Condor and the Shepherdess” gives us an emphatically unromantic pairing of woman and beast. It remains hauntingly enigmatic in its refusal to ennoble the condor as a totemic animal. Taking up the nature/culture divide, it creates a liminal space for the heroine, who tries to adjust to the condor colony and its carrion-eating habits. The contrast between condor and parrot, with the one a wild bird of prey, the other a tamed species that mimics human speech, adds much to the grotesque story of origins enacted in the tale’s conclusion.

  A condor fell in love with a shepherdess, who had a brown face, black eyes, and a sweet countenance. Because he was unable to satisfy his passionate desires in the shape of a bird, the condor adopted the form of a handsome youth. To hide his scaly neck, he covered himself with a white handkerchief. Thus attired, he presented himself to the little shepherdess while she was tending her cattle.

  “Lulu, what are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I am grazing my lambs, singing, and using my slingshot to drive away the fox who wants to eat my sheep and the condor who is trying to snatch me away.”

  “Would you like me to accompany you and help you pursue the fox and frighten the condor?”

  “No,” she said to him, “companions spoil the young. I love my sheep, I adore my freedom in the wild, and I want to live alone, singing happily, oblivious to the sorrows of love.”

  “Then I will leave. Until tomorrow.”

  The following day the condor returned in the same disguise.

  “Lulu, could we talk?” he said to the little shepherdess with the beautiful face and black eyes.

  “We can talk,” she replied. “Tell me where you are from.”

  “I have come here from the highest mountain, where terrifying thunder resounds. Its summit receives the first kisses of the rising sun and the final rays of the dying light. The snow shines like a diamond in that place, where solitude and silence prevail. Would you like to come with me? You will be the queen of the air. The sky, always clear and blue, will be the ceiling that covers our home. The flowers from the valley will send us their sweet scent to make our lives pleasant. Well, do you want to leave with me?”

  “No, I do not want the hills you come from. I love my mother, who would cry on account of my absence. I love my fields, my sheep. Look at that lamb, so white and sweet—how much, how much it would suffer without me!”

  “Well, Lulu, I won’t pester you. I only ask that you lend me your broach so that I can scratch my back. I feel an itch.”

  The girl with the black eyes and coral lips gave him her broach, which he returned to her after using it.

  The next day, the young man returned.

  “Lulu, Lulu,” he said, “your eyes have bewitched me. I cannot live without you. And because of that, I am here to see you. Let us leave this place.”

  “No, no, I cannot,” she replied. “My mother would weep, my poor sheep would bleat for me and be inconsolable.”

  “You know,” he replied, “the itch that I felt on my back is still there, and it feels worse than ever. I am begging you to scratch it. Your fingers, soft like the wool made from the alpaca, can put an end to this itching and cure me of it forever.”

  The unsuspecting girl climbed on his back when he bent over, and as soon as the wily suitor realized that she was on his back, he turned back into a condor, swiftly taking wing and carrying away his precious cargo.

  They traversed the sky and, after a rapid flight, arrived at a grotto on a high mountain, where the mother of the condor lived. She was an ancient bird with discolored plumage. A number of condors dwelled in other grottos on the same mountain.

  The arrival of the little shepherdess was celebrated with shrieks of joy accompanied by a loud flapping of wings. The mother, the old bird, received her with the greatest joy and lulled her to sleep beneath her huge wings, giving warmth to the li
ttle shepherdess who was shivering from the cold air at the top of the mountain.

  The girl was happy to be with the young, affectionate condor, but he never brought her anything to eat.

  “Listen to me,” she told her suitor. “Your embraces nourish my soul, but the lack of food is weakening my body. Remember that I know how to eat and how to drink. I need fire. I need meat. I need the fruits of the earth. I’m hungry and I’m thirsty, my dear.”

  The condor took wing, broke into a deserted kitchen, stole some burning coals, and carried them off. With his beak, he opened a canal and a current of clear, crystalline water flowed out from it. From the fields and from the roads he gathered bits and pieces of meat from the carcasses of dead animals and presented them to the girl. He dug potatoes out of their patches and took them to her.

  The meat smelled bad, and the potatoes were mushy, but the young girl, tormented by hunger, greedily devoured the bad food. She pined for bread, but her lover was not able to satisfy this desire.

  While her grief-stricken mother wept in their abandoned home, the little shepherdess with the black eyes was consumed by nostalgia and wasting away from bad food. She grew weary of the amorous embraces of her winged lover. She began to grow thin as well. Feathers emerged from her body. She began laying eggs. And after she laid a great many eggs, she realized that she had turned into a hen. She was the wife of the condor, the queen of the skies, and her job was to breed chicks, which would take after their father and surge fearlessly across the skies.

  The mother of the girl continued crying inconsolably in their home, abandoned by the runaway shepherdess.

  A parrot living near the mother took pity on her and said, “Don’t cry, my dear woman. Your daughter is living on the great mountain as the mistress of the condor. If you let me eat the corn in your garden and use your leafy trees to rest my limbs and make my nest, I promise to bring the girl back to you.”