asked: “For how many years has he been Tsar?” And she said: “For years five and thirty.”
He then wrote a letter with his own hand to the Tsarítsa, that he had secret things and thoughts to speak of with her; and he bade a woman take this letter to the queen. The Tsarítsa received the letter and had it read to her. He signed it as her husband, Tsar Angéy. And a great fear fell upon her, and in her fear she began to speak: “How can this poor man name me his wife? I must inform the Tsar and have him punished.” And she bade him be beaten with whips mercilessly, without informing the Tsar. He was pitilessly beaten, and was scarcely left alive, and could hardly leave the town. He wept and sobbed, and remembered the words of the Gospel: He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble and meek. And he spoke to a pope of this, how he had profaned the Sacred Book, and had sent the priest into the dark dungeon, and had gone a long, long way.
And the Tsarítsa spoke to the angel who was taking the shape of the Tsar: “Thou, my dear lord, for one year hast not slept with me. How can I, then, be thine?” And the Tsar spake to her: “I have made a covenant with God that for three years I will not sleep with thee nor share thy bed.” And he left her and went into the Tsar’s palace.
Angéy the Tsar arrived in an unknown town and engaged himself with a peasant to reap the harvest; and he did not know how to do a peasant’s work; and the peasant discharged him, and he began to weep and sob, and went on his way from that city. And poor men met him on the road. He said to them: “Will ye take me up with ye? I am now a poor man, and do not know how to work, and I am ashamed to beg. What ye bid of me I will do. I will work for you.” And they accepted him and gave him a burden to carry. And they went to lie at night, and they bade him heat the bath, carry water, and lay the bed. And Tsar Angéy wept bitterly: “Woe to me! What have I done! I was wroth with the Sovereign, and He has deprived me of my kingdom and has brought me to ruin, and I have suffered all this through the word of the Gospel.”
In the morning the poor men got up, and they arrived at his own city of Filuyán. And they reached the abode of the Tsar and began to beg for alms. At this time the Tsar was holding a mighty feast, and he bade the poor be summoned into the palace, bade them be fed sufficiently, and he bade the food of the poor men be taken into the Tsar’s palace and put into a special room. And, when the Tsar’s feast was over and the boyárs35 and the guests had all separated, the angel who had taken the form of the Tsar Angéy came to him in the palace where Angéy the Tsar was dining with the beggars: “Dost thou know of a proud and mighty Tsar, how he profaned the word of the Gospel?” And he began to teach him and to instruct him before all of the world, that he must not profane the word of the Gospel, and must show respect for the priests, and must not upraise himself, but must be kindly and inclined to the ways of peace.
The Feast of the Dead
Some girls were out at night for the evening, and arranged for an evening party. They went out to get some vodka. There were bones lying on the road. “Ho!” they said, “bones, bones, come and be our guests: we are having an evening party.”
So, they went back home, brought the vodka, and stepped in over the threshold.
But the bones came and sat at the table just like men, and said to the maidens, “Now give us the brandy.”
So the girls gave them brandy.
“Give us bread!”
So they gave them bread.
They all sat down to eat, and one maiden dropped the meat.
Then the bones began lifting and stretching their legs under the bench. The girls tried to run away; and the bones raced after them. The bones caught one girl up, and broke her across their knees. The other girls made their escape into the loft; one girl hid behind the water-butt.
The bones ran up to the loft and asked: “What is there up there?”
“God’s taper.”
“But down there?”
“The Devil’s poker,” she answered.
So the bones hauled the second girl out and strangled her.
The Quarrelsome Wife
“Father, I should like to marry! Mother, I should like to marry, I should really,” said the youth.
“Well then, my child—marry.”
So he married, and chose a lanky, black, squinting wife. She would have pleased Satan more than the clear-eyed hawk, and it was no good frothing at anybody: he was the only person in the wrong. So he lived with her and wrung his tears out with his fist.
One day he went out where audiences were being given, stood there, and came home.
“Wherever have you been sauntering?” asked his squint-eyed wife. “What have you seen?”
“Oh, they say that a new Tsar has come on the throne and has issued a new úkaz that wives are to command their husbands!”
He only meant to joke, but she sprang up, pulled his whiskers and said, “Go to the stream and wash the shirts, take the broom and sweep the house, then go and sit by the cradle and rock the child, cook the supper and grill and bake the cakes.”
The man wanted to answer, “What are you talking about, woman? That is not a
