grow dry and yellow, but his master’s corn prospered amain. Some men’s cattle became bowlegged, but his master’s gambolled in the street. And the horses of some masters fell downhill, but his master’s could not be kept to the bridle. The master knew very well whom he must thank, to whom he must render gratitude. So, when the third year came to an end, he laid a pile of money on the table: “Take, my dear man, as much as your soul desires. It is your work, and it is your money”; and he went out of the room.
Once more the workman took a single coin, went to the well for a drink of water and looked, and the lost money floated up to the surface: so he took them, and he then felt sure that God had rewarded him for his labour. He was joyous and thought, “It is now the time for me to go and look at the white world and to learn of people.” So he thought this, and he went out whither his eyes gazed.
He went on to the field, and he saw a mouse running: “My friend, my dear gossip, give me a coin; I will be of service to you.”
So he gave the mouse a coin.
Then he went to the forest, and a beetle crept up and said, “My friend, my dear gossip, give me a coin; I will be of service to you.”
So he gave him the second coin.
Then he came up to the stream, and he met a sheatfish. “My friend, my dear gossip, give me a coin; I shall be of service to you.”
And he could not refuse him, so he gave his last coin.
So then he came into the city. Oh, it was so thronged! All the doors were opened, and he looked, and the workman turned in all directions, and he did not know where to go. In front of him stood the Tsar’s palace decked with gold and silver, and at the window the Tsarévna Without a Smile sat and gazed on him straight. What should he do? The light in his eyes turned dark, and a sleep fell on him, and he fell straight into the mud. Up came the sheatfish with his big whiskers, and after him the beetle and the mouse: they all ran up, they all pressed round him and did all the service they could. The little mouse took his coat: the beetle cleaned his boots, and the sheatfish drove away the flies. The Princess Without a Smile gazed on their services, and she smiled.
“Who is he who has enlivened my daughter?” cried the King. One man said “I,” and another man said “I.”
“No,” said the Princess, “that is the man there”; and she pointed out the workman.
Instantly he was taken into the palace, and the workman stood in the imperial presence, a youth such as never was: then the Tsar kept his princely word and gave what he had promised.
I am saying it. Was not this a mere dream? Did not the workman only dream it? They assure me this is not the fact, and that it all happened in real truth; so you must believe it.
The Tsarévich and Dyád’ka25
Once upon a time, in a certain kingdom, in a city of yore, there was a King who had a dwarf son. The Tsarévich was fair to behold, and fair of heart. But his father was not good: he was always tortured with greedy thoughts, how he should derive greater profit from his country and extract heavier taxes.
One day he saw an old peasant passing by with sable, marten, beaver, and fox-skins; and he asked him: “Old man! whence do you come?”
“Out of the village, Father. I serve the Woodsprite with the iron hands, the cast-iron head, and the body of bronze.”
“How do you catch so many animals?”
“The Woodsprite lays traps, and the animals are stupid and go into them.”
“Listen, old man; I will give you gold and wine. Show me where you put the traps.”
So the old man was persuaded, and he showed the King, who instantly had the Woodsprite arrested and confined in a narrow tower. And in all the Woodsprite’s forests the King himself laid traps.
The Woodsprite-forester sat in his iron tower inside the royal garden, and looked out through the window. One day, the Tsarévich, with his nurses and attendants and very many faithful servant-maids, went into the garden to play. He passed the door, and the Woodsprite cried out to him: “Tsarévich, if you will set me free, I will later on help you.”
“How shall I do this?”
“Go to your mother and weep bitterly. Tell her: ‘Please, dear Mother, scratch my head.’ Lay your head on her lap. Wait for the proper instant, take the key of my tower out of her pocket, and set me free.”
Iván Tsarévich did what the Woodsprite had told him, took the key; then he ran into the garden, made an arrow, put the arrow on a catapult, and shot it far away. And all the nurses and serving-maids ran off to find the arrow. Whilst they were all running after the arrow Iván Tsarévich opened the iron tower and freed the Woodsprite. The Woodsprite escaped and destroyed all the King’s traps.
Now the King could not catch any more animals, and became angry, and attacked his wife for giving the key away and setting the Woodsprite free. He assembled all the boyárs, generals, and senators to pronounce the Queen’s doom, whether she should have her head cut off, or should be merely banished. So the Tsarévich was greatly grieved; he was sorry for his mother, and he acknowledged his guilt to his father.
Then the King was very sorry, and didn’t know what to do to his son. He asked all the boyárs and generals, and said: “Is he to be hanged or to be put into a fortress?”
“No, your
