Folk-Lore and Legends: Russian and Polish. Various
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to her, teaching her all they knew. Snyegurka was very clever; she noticed everything, and learnt things quickly. During that winter she grew as big as a three-year-old child. She understood things, and when she spoke her voice was so sweet that one could have listened to it for ever. She was amiable, obedient, and affectionate. Her skin was white, her hair the colour of flax, and her eyes deep blue; her cheeks, however, had no rosy flush in them, for she had no blood, but she was so good and so amiable that every one loved her.
“You see,” said Mary, “what joy has Heaven given us in our old age.”
“Heaven be thanked,” responded Ivan.
At last the winter was ended, and the spring sun shone down and warmed the earth. The snow melted, the green grass sprang up in the fields, and the lark sang high up in the sky. The village girls went singing—
“Sweet spring, how did you come to us?
How did you come?
Did you come on a plough, or on a harrow?”
Snyegurka, however, became very sad. “What is the matter with you, my dear child?” said Mary, drawing her to her and caressing her. “Are you not well? You are not merry. Has an evil eye glanced on you?”
“No,” answered Snyegurka; “it is nothing, mother. I am quite well.”
The last snow of the winter had melted and disappeared. Flowers sprang up in all the gardens and fields. In the woods the nightingale and all the birds sang, and all the world seemed very happy save Snyegurka, who became more and more sad. She would run away from her companions, and hide herself from the sun in dark nooks, like a timid flower under the trees. She liked nothing save playing by the water-side under the green willows. She seemed to enjoy only the cool and the shower. At night-time she was happy; and when a good storm occurred, a fierce hail-storm, she was as pleased with the drops as if they had been pearls. When the sun broke forth again—when the hail was melted—then Snyegurka began to weep bitterly.
The spring was ended, the summer came, and the feast of Saint John was at hand. The girls were going to play in the woods, and they called for Snyegurka to go with them.
Mary was afraid to let her go, but she thought that the outing might do her child good, so she got her ready, embraced her, and said—
“Go, my child, and play with your friends; and you, my daughters, look well after her. You know I love her better than the apple of my eye.”
“All right,” cried they all, and they ran off in a body to the woods.
There they plucked the wild-flowers, made themselves wreaths, and sang songs.
When the sun was setting they made a fire of dry grass and placed themselves in a row by it, each of them having a crown of flowers on her head. “Look at us,” said they to Snyegurka, “how we run, and follow us,” and then they began to sing and to jump, around and over the little fire.
All of a sudden they heard, behind them, a sigh—
“Ah!”
They looked about them, and then at one another. There was nothing to be seen. They looked again, and found that Snyegurka was no longer among them.
“She has hidden herself,” cried they. Then they looked for her, but could not find her, calling out and shouting her name, but there was no answer.
“Where can she be? She must have gone home,” said they.
They ran back to the village, but there no one had seen Snyegurka. All the folk searched during the next day and the day following. They went through all the woods, they looked through every thicket, but no trace of the child was discovered.
Ivan and Mary were inconsolable, and for a long time did the poor mother seek her child in the woods, crying—
“Snyegurka, my sweet, come to me.”
Sometimes she thought she could hear the voice of her child replying to her; but no, it was not Snyegurka.
“What could have become of her?” folk asked one another; “can a wild beast have carried her off into the woods? Has some bird of prey flown off with her?”
No beast had carried her off, nor had a bird flown away with her. When she began to run with her companions she suddenly changed into a light vapour, and was carried up to heaven.
PRINCE PETER AND PRINCESS MAGILENE.
In the kingdom of France there was once a high-born prince named Volchvan who married a noble lady named Petronida. They had one son, who was called Peter. This Prince Peter in his youth was very fond of horsemanship and of war, and when he grew up he thought of nothing but knightly deeds. Now it chanced that just at that time there arrived a knight named Ruiganduis, who had come from Naples, and he, seeing the Prince’s disposition, said to him, “Prince Peter, the King of Naples has a beautiful daughter named Magilene, and he bestows great rewards on the knights who by their deeds do honour to her.”
Peter, when he heard that, went to his father and mother, and begged them to let him go to Naples to learn knightly arts, and, especially, to see the beautiful Magilene, the daughter of the King.
They parted with Prince Peter with great sorrow, and bade him only make friends of good folk. Then they gave him three gold rings with precious stones, and also a golden key. So they sent him off.
When Prince Peter came to Naples he went to a clever workman, and ordered him to make him a coat of mail, and a helmet to match, and told him to fasten to it two golden keys. When he had done this he rode away to the place where the tournaments were held, where he found the King. The folk called Peter, Peter with the Golden Keys, and off he went and placed himself among the knights. First of all there rode out the Knight Andrei Skrintor, and against him appeared the son of the King of England. Andrei dealt Henry such a blow, that he was nearly thrown off his horse. Then Landiot, the King’s son, came forth and threw Andrei off his horse on to the ground.
When Prince Peter saw that Landiot had thrown Andrei from his saddle, he rode out and cried aloud—
“Long may their Majesties live in happiness, the King, the Queen, and their beautiful daughter, the Princess Magilene.”
He rode at Landiot with such force that his horse rolled on the ground and the spear went through his heart. This deed won for him the praise of the King and of all the knights, but especially that of the Princess Magilene, and Prince Peter became the first of all the King’s knights.
Now when the beautiful Princess saw how brave and handsome Prince Peter was she fell in love with him, and resolved to marry him. She made a confidante of her maid, and from that time Prince Peter used to see the Princess daily. He gave her the three golden rings as a mark of his true love, and one day, taking her with him, rode away from the city.
They rode off on their good horse, taking much gold and silver with them, and they continued their journey all night. At length they came to a thick forest which stretched far away to the seashore. There they stopped to rest, and the Princess, lying down on the grass, fell fast asleep. Prince Peter sat by her side and watched her, and as he looked at her he saw a locket having a golden fastening. He opened it and out fell the three gold rings he had given to her. The Prince put them on the grass, and, as it chanced, a black raven flew by at the moment, seized the rings, and took them off into a tree. Peter climbed up the tree, hoping to catch the bird; but as he was about to seize it, the raven flew into another tree, and so from tree to tree till at last it went away over the sea to an island, letting the rings fall into the water.
Prince Peter followed the bird, and, having come to the seashore, he looked about him for a boat in which he could pursue it to the island. At length he set off in a small fishing-boat, but as he had no oars he paddled along with his hands. All of a sudden, as he was on his way, there came on a storm of wind which carried him away to the open sea. When the Prince saw