must choose me, and look at me very carefully. There will be a patch over my right eye; that will be the sign.” And the maiden told him her story. “Do you know the pope in a neighbouring village? I am his daughter, and was stolen from his house nine years ago. One day my father was angry with me and made a hasty wish that the Devil might take me. I went in front of the house and cried, and the Unholy Spirit soon snatched me on the spot, carried me here; and I have never left the place since.”
Next day the old man set the twelve maidens in a row before the boy, and commanded him to choose one of them. He looked until he had seen the one with the patch over the right eye, and chose her. The old man was angry, but he had to give her up. And he therefore mixed the maidens together and told him to make a second choice. The boy hit on the same one, and after a third choice he took his fated bride.
“This has been your piece of luck. Now take her home!”
All at once the boy and the maiden found themselves on the bank of the lake, and they walked backwards until they reached the high road. The Devil wanted to hunt after them; but all at once the lake vanished, and there was no trace of the water.
When the boy had taken his bride into the village, he stopped at the pope’s house. The pope saw her, and sent a servant out and asked what they desired.
“We are wandering folk, and ask for shelter.”
“I have guests staying here, and my hut would be too small anyhow.”
“But, father!” said the merchants, “wandering folk must be always taken in: they will not disturb us.”
“Well, come in.”
The boy and the maiden came in, made due greetings, and sat behind, on a corner of the fire bank.
“Do you know me, father? I am your own daughter!” She told him what had happened; and they kissed, and embraced, and shed tears of joy.
“Who is he?” said the pope, pointing to the boy.
“That is my own chosen bridegroom, who brought me back to light of day, but for whom I should have remained beneath forever!” Thereupon the fair maiden opened her bag, and there were golden and silver vessels in it which she had stolen from the devils.
A merchant looked at them and said: “Those are my plate. Once I was dining with guests, and became rather drunk, quarrelled with my wife, and I wished them all to the Devil. And since then all my plate has vanished!”
And this was the truth, for as soon as ever the man mentioned the Devil, the Evil Spirit appeared on the threshold, gathered up all the gold and silver plate, and threw skeleton bones down instead.
So the boy got a fine bride, married her, and drove to see his parents. They had long given him up for dead, and it was no wonder; for he had been away for three years, although it had seemed to him only twenty-four hours that he had stayed with the Devil.
The Tsarítsa Harpist
In a certain kingdom in a certain land once there lived a Tsar and a Tsarítsa. He lived with her for some time, then he thought he would go to that far distant country where the Jews crucified Christ. So he issued orders to his ministers, bade farewell to his wife, and set out on his road.
It maybe far, it maybe short, he at last reached that distant land where the Jews crucified Christ. And in that country then the Accursed King was the ruler. This King saw the Tsar, and he bade him be seized and lodged in the dungeon. There were many tortures in that dungeon for him. At night he must sit in chains, and in the morning the Accursed King used to put a horse-collar on him and make him drive the plough until the evening. This was the torment in which the Tsar lived for three whole years, and he had no idea how he should tear himself away or send any news of himself to his Tsarítsa. And he sought for some occasion. And he wrote her this little line: “Sell,” he said, “all my possessions and come to redeem me from my misfortune.”
When the Tsarítsa received the letter she read it through and said to herself, “How can I redeem the Tsar? If I go myself, the Accursed King will receive me and will take me to himself as a wife. If I send one of the ministers, I can place no reliance on him.” So what did she advise? She cut off her red hair, went and disguised herself as a wandering musician, took her gúsli, and never told anybody, and so set out on her road and way.
She arrived at the Accursed King’s courtyard and began to play the gúsli so finely as had never been heard or listened to for ages. When the King heard such wonderful music he summoned the harpist into the palace. “Hail, guslyár! From what land have you come? From what kingdom?” asked the King.
“I do not journey far in the wide white world: I rejoice men’s hearts and I feed myself.”
“Stay with me one day and another day, and a third, and I will reward you generously.”
So the guslyár stayed on, and played for an entire day in front of the King, and he could never hear enough of her. “What wonderful music! why, it drove away all weariness and grief as though at a breath.”
So the guslyár stayed with the King three days, and was going to say farewell.
“What reward can I offer you for your labour?” asked the King.
“Oh, your Majesty, give me one prisoner who has sat long in the prison; I must
