Suddenly, their exclamations were changed into deep silence, for upon one of the horns of the much-admired animal appeared a little bird, singing in most melancholy strains, "Tsiri! tsiri! Maszilo killed Mazziloniane, to get possession of the white cow which the murdered brother so much loved."
"What! has Maszilo killed his brother?" all exclaimed, and, full of horror, turned away from the murderer, unable to account to themselves for the emotion he inspired, and the strangeness of the disclosure.
Infuriated, they drove Maszilo from their home, into the desert: in the confusion this occasioned, the little bird flew to the murdered man"s sister, and whispered in her ear, "I am the soul of Mazziloniane; Maszilo has killed me; my body lies in a well near the desert, go bury it--" and then the bird flew back into the desert, evermore to be the companion of the murderer.
THE SHEPHERD AND THE SERPENT.
[German, Traditional.]
In a peaceful, pleasantly situated little village, there once lived a poor shepherd youth. Near the village was a valley, a lonely retired spot, whither the youth always guided his flock; and it seemed as though he had selected that quiet valley for his favourite retreat. He never took his noon-day meal, nor lay down to repose in the cool shade, except in that beloved place. Thither was he ever drawn by an irresistible longing.
The place itself was simple enough--a rugged block of stone, beneath which murmured a little rivulet, and a wild cherry-tree which overshadowed the stone with its leafy branches, were all that was to be seen there; but the youth felt happy when he spread his meal upon that stone, and drank from that streamlet. When, after having partaken of his meal, he stretched himself to rest upon the stone, he would fancy he heard a mysterious singing, and sometimes a sighing too, beneath it; he would then listen and watch, but would finally slumber and dream. His spirit seemed to be ever wrapped in mysterious unearthly happiness. On going forth with his flocks in the morning, and returning home with them in the evening, this unaccountable longing seemed always to take possession of him. He liked not to accompany the throng of merry village youths and maidens who went about singing and frolicking on festive evenings, but preferred to walk alone, silent and even melancholy. But when the fair morning dawned again, and he went forth with his lambs over heath and meadow, his spirit grew ever more serene as he drew nearer to the beloved stone and to the shade of the dear cherry-tree. It often happened, too, that whilst he rested there and played upon his flute, a silver-white serpent came out from under the stone, and after wreathing herself caressingly at his feet, would then erect herself and gaze upon the shepherd, until two big tears would roll from her eyes, and then she softly slid back again: on these occasions a still more peculiar and strange feeling filled the shepherd"s heart.
At length he altogether ceased to a.s.sociate with the merry band of youths and maidens; their mirthsome noise was unpleasant to him; whilst, on the contrary, the still solitude became more and more dear to him.
One lovely Sunday in the spring time--it was Trinity Sunday, which the peasants call "Golden Sunday," and which they always keep with especial festivity--when the youth of the village were to have a merry dance beneath the linden-trees, the pensive shepherd boy, drawn by that inexpressible longing, directed his steps at mid-day to the lonely valley of the stone and cherry-tree. He gazed serenely upon the dear spot, and then sat down and listened musingly to the rustling of the leaves and the mysterious sounds under the stone, when suddenly a bright light shone before his eyes, a pang of terror shot through his heart, and looking up he saw a beauteous form arrayed in white like an angel, standing before him with a soft expression and folded hands, whilst with transported senses he heard a sweet voice thus address him: "O youth, fear not, but hear the supplication of an unhappy maiden, and do not drive me from thee, nor flee from my misfortune. I am a n.o.ble princess, and have immense treasures of pearls and gold; but for many hundred years I have languished under enchantment, have been banished beneath this stone, and am doomed to glide about in the form of a serpent. In that shape I have often gazed on thee and conceived the hope that thou mayest release me. Thou art still pure in heart as a child. Only once throughout the whole year, this very hour on Golden Sunday, am I permitted to wander on the earth in my own form; and if I then find a youth with a pure heart, I may implore him for my deliverance. Release me then, thou beloved one! release me, I implore thee by all that is holy!"--The maiden sank at the shepherd"s feet, which she clasped as she looked up to him weeping. The heart of the youth heaved with transport; he raised the angelic maiden and faltered out: "Oh say only what I must do to free thee, thou fair beloved one!"
"Return hither to-morrow at the same hour," replied she, "and when I appear before thee in my serpent form, and wind myself around thee, and thrice kiss thee, do not, oh! do not shudder, else must I again languish enchanted here for another century!" She vanished, and again a soft sighing and singing issued from beneath the stone.
On the following day, at the hour of noon, the shepherd, not without fear in his heart, waited at the appointed place, and supplicated Heaven for strength and constancy at the trying moment of the serpent"s kiss. Already the silver-white serpent glided from beneath the stone, approached the youth, twined herself round his body, and raised her serpent head, with its bright eyes, to kiss him. He remained steady, and endured the three kisses. A mighty crash was then heard, and dreadful thunders rolled around the youth, who had fallen senseless on the ground. A magic change pa.s.sed over him, and when he was restored to his senses, he found himself lying on white cushions of silk, in a richly-adorned chamber, with the beautiful maiden kneeling by his couch, holding his hand to her heart. "Oh, thanks be to Heaven!" exclaimed she, when he opened his eyes; "receive my thanks, beloved youth, for my deliverance, and take as thy reward my fair lands, and this palace with all its rich treasures, and take me too as thy faithful wife: thou shalt henceforth be happy, and have plenitude of joy!"
And the shepherd was happy and joyful; that longing of his heart which had so often drawn him towards the stone, was gloriously satisfied. He dwelt, remote from the world, in the bosom of happiness, with his fair spouse; and he never wished himself back on earth, nor amongst his lambs again. But in the village there was great lamentation for the shepherd who had so suddenly vanished: they sought him in the valley, and by the stone under the cherry-tree, whither he had last gone, but neither the shepherd, nor the stone, nor the cherry-tree were to be found any longer; and no human eye ever again beheld any trace of either.
THE EXPEDITIOUS FROG.
[Wendian.]
A fox came one day at full speed to a pond to drink. A frog who was sitting there, began to croak at him. Then, said the fox, "Be off with you, or I"ll swallow you."
The frog, however, replied: "Don"t give yourself such airs; I am swifter than you!"
At this the fox laughed; but as the frog persisted in boasting of his swiftness, the fox said at length: "Now, then, we will both run to the next town, and we shall see which can go the faster."
Then the fox turned round, and as he did so, the frog leapt up into his bushy tail. Off went the fox, and when he reached the gate of the city, he turned round again to see if he could spy the frog coming after him. As he did so, the frog hopped out of his tail on the ground. The fox, after looking all about without being able to see the frog, turned round once more in order to enter the city.
Then the frog called out to him: "So! you are come at last? I am just going back again, for I really thought you meant not to come at all."
EASTWARD OF THE SUN, AND WESTWARD OF THE MOON.
[Norwegian.]
In days of yore there lived a poor charcoal-burner who had many children. His poverty was so great, that he knew not how to feed them from day to day, and they had scarcely any clothes to cover them.
Nevertheless all the children were very beautiful, but the youngest daughter was the most beautiful of them all.
Now it happened on a Thursday evening, late in the autumn, that a terrible storm came on. It was dark as pitch, the rain came down in torrents, and the wind blew till the windows cracked again. The whole family sat round the hearth, busy with their different occupations; suddenly some one gave three loud knocks at the window; the man went out to see whom it could be, and when he got outside the door, he saw standing by it, a great white bear.
"Good evening to you!" said the bear.
"Good evening!" said the man.
"I have called," said the bear, "to say that if you will give me your youngest daughter in marriage, I will make you as rich as you now are poor."
The man thought that would not be amiss, but he considered that he must first consult his daughter on the subject; so he stepped in, and told her that a great white bear was outside the door, who had promised to make him as rich as he was now poor, provided he would give him his youngest daughter in marriage. The maiden, however, said "No," and would hear nothing at all about the matter; so the man went out again, spoke very civilly to the bear, and told him to call again next Thursday evening, and in the mean time he would try what could be done. During the week they tried to persuade the maiden, and told her all kinds of fine things as to the riches they were to have, and how well she herself would be provided for, till at last she consented. So she washed the two or three things she had, dressed herself as well as she could, and made herself ready for the journey.
[Ill.u.s.tration: EASTWARD OF THE SUN AND WESTWARD OF THE MOON. P. 219.]
When the bear returned the following Thursday evening, all was ready: the maiden took her bundle in her hand, seated herself on his back, and off they went. When they had gone a good way, the bear asked her: "Do you feel sad?"
No, that she did not in the least.
"Mind you hold fast by my s.h.a.ggy coat," said the bear, "and then there will be nothing to fear."
Thus she rode on the bear"s back far far away--indeed n.o.body can say precisely how far it was--and at last they arrived at a great rock.
The bear knocked, and a door opened, through which they entered a large castle, in which were a great many rooms, all lighted with lamps, and glittering with gold and silver: there was also a grand saloon, and in the saloon stood a table covered with the most costly viands. The bear then gave her a silver bell, which he told her to ring when she wanted anything, and it would immediately be brought to her. Now after she had eaten and drunk, and towards evening grew tired, and wished to go to bed, she rang her bell, and immediately a door opened into a chamber, where there was as beautiful a bed as she could wish for, ready prepared for her; the pillows were covered with silk, and the curtains fringed with gold, and all her toilette utensils were of silver and gold. As soon, however, as she had extinguished the light, and lay down in her bed, some one came and lay down by her side, and this happened every night; but she could never see who it was, as the person never came till after the light was put out, and always went away before day-break.
Thus she lived for some time, contented and happy, till at length she felt so great a desire to see her parents, and brothers and sisters, that she grew quite dull and melancholy. Then the bear asked her one day why she was always so still and thoughtful.
"Ah!" replied she, "I feel so lonely here in the castle, for I so much wish to see my parents, and brothers and sisters, once more."
"That you can easily do," said the bear, "but you must promise me that you will never converse with your mother alone, but only when all the others are present; for she will try to take you by the hand and lead you into another room, in order to speak to you alone, but do not consent to it, for if you do, she will make both you and me unhappy."
The maiden said she would be very careful to do as he desired her.
The following Sunday the bear came to her, and said she might now begin her journey to her parents. She seated herself on his back, and they commenced their journey. After they had travelled a very long time, they came to a great white castle, and she saw her sisters going in and out, and all was so beautiful and grand, it was quite a pleasure to behold it.
"That is where your parents dwell," said the bear, "now do not forget what I have said to you, or you will make yourself and me very miserable."
She would not forget, repeated the maiden, and she entered the castle; the bear, however, went back again. When her parents saw their daughter, they were more delighted than it is possible to express.
They could not thank her enough for what she had done for them, and they told how wonderfully comfortable they were now, and inquired how matters went with her. Oh, she also was very happy, returned the maiden, she had everything she could desire. What else she told them, I do not exactly know, but I believe it was no every-day tale that she told them. In the afternoon, when they had dined, it happened exactly as the bear had foretold; the mother wanted to talk with her daughter in private, but the maiden remembered what the bear had said, and would not go with her, but said: "Oh, we can say what we have got to say, quite as well here."
Now, how it happened, I cannot tell, but all I know is, that her mother persuaded her at last, and then she got the whole history from her. The maiden related how some one came into her bed every night, but that she had never seen who it was, and that made her so uneasy, and the day seemed very long to her, because she was always alone.
"Who knows!" said the mother, "surely it must be some wizard who sleeps by you; but if you will take my advice, when he is fast asleep, get up and strike a light, and see who it is; but be careful not to let any grease drop upon him."
In the evening the bear came to fetch the maiden home. When they had gone a good way he asked her if it had not happened as he had told her.
"Yes," she could not deny that it had.