Russian Folktales

master. So he quietly asked the coachman what his man had done with the lady, and thought: “Well, I don’t mind! I will do the same; it may come out to the same tune, or it may not. I must look out for myself.”

So he stripped the lord to his skin, clutched his legs up with nippers, threw him into the forge, began to blow up the bellows, and burned him to ashes. Afterwards he threw the bones⁠—hurled them all into the milk, and began watching would a young master emerge from the bath. And he waited one hour, and another hour, and nothing happened, looked at the little tub⁠—all the little bones were floating about all burned to pieces.

And what was the lady doing? She sent messengers to the smithy. “When was the master to be turned out?” And the poor smith answered that the master had wished her a long life. And you may imagine what they thought of this. Soon she learned that all the smith had done had been to burn her husband to bits and not to make him young, and she was very angry indeed, sent her body-servants, and ordered them to take the smith to the gallows. The order was given, and the thing was done. The attendants ran to the smith, laid hold of him, and took him to the gallows.

Then the same young man who had acted as a hand to the smith came and asked: “Where are they taking you, master?”

“They are going to hang me!” the smith said. And he explained what had happened.

“Well, never mind, uncle!” said the Unholy Spirit. “Swear that you will never strike me with your hammer, and I will secure you such honour as your father had. The lady’s husband shall arise young and in full health.”

The smith swore and made oath that he would never raise the hammer on the devil and would give him every honour.

Then the workman ran to the smithy, and soon returned with the husband, crying out to the servants to stop and not to hang the smith, for there the master was! He then untied the ropes and set the smith free.

And the youth thereafter never more spat on the devil and beat him with a hammer. But his workman vanished and was never seen again. The master and mistress lived on and experienced good in their life, and they are still alive, if they are not dead.

The Princess Who Would Not Smile

If you think of it, what a big world God’s world is: in it rich and poor folk live, and there is room enough for them all; and the Lord overlooks and judges them all. There are fine folk who have holidays, there are wailful folk who must moil; every man has his lot.

---

In the Tsar’s palace, in the Prince’s chamber, every day the Princess Without a Smile grew fairer. What a life she had, what plenty, what beauty round her! There was enough of everything that exists that the soul may desire, but she never smiled, never laughed, and it seemed as though her heart could not rejoice at anything.

It was a bitter thing for the Tsar her father to gaze at his doleful daughter. He used to open his imperial palace to whoever would be his guest. “Come,” he said, “come and try to enliven the Princess Without a Smile: anyone who succeeds shall gain her as his wife.” And as soon as he had said this all folk thronged up at the gates of the palace, driving up from all sides, coming on foot, Tsarévichi and princes’ sons, boyárs and noblemen, military folk and civil. Feasts were celebrated, rivers of mead flowed, and the Princess would not smile.

But, at the other end of the town, in his own little hut, there dwelt an honourable labourer. Every morning he used to sweep out the courtyard: every evening he used to pasture the cattle, and he was engaged in ceaseless labour. His master was a rich man, a just man, and he did not begrudge pay. When the year came to an end he put a purse of money on the table, “Take,” he said, “as much as you like”; and the master went outside.

The workman went up to the table and thought, “How shall I not be guilty in the eyes of God if I take too much for my labour?” So he took only one little coin, put it into the hollow of his hand and thought he would have a little drink. So he went to the well, and the coin slipped through his fingers and fell to the bottom. So the poor fellow had nothing left. Now, anybody else in his place would have cried out, would have become melancholy and angry, might have put his hands up. He did nothing of the sort. “Everything,” he said, “comes from God. The Lord knows what He gives to each man, whose money He divides, from whom He takes the last money. Evidently I have given bad care, I have done little work; and now am I to become angry?”

So he set to work once more. And all that his hand touched flew like fire. Then, when the term was over, when one year more had gone by, the master again put a purse of money on the table: “Take,” he said, “as much as your soul desires”; and he himself went outside.

Then again the labourer thought how he should not offend God, how he should not take too much for his work. So he took one coin and he went to have a little drink at the well. In some way or other the money fell from his hands and the coin tumbled into the well and was lost.

So he set to work even more obstinately: at night he would not sleep and by day he would not eat. Other men saw their corn