The next day the damsel again sat by the sea, and held in her hands the silver saucer and rolled the little golden apple about on it. The Tsarevna came out walking again, went up to her, looked on and said, "Sell me thy toy!"--"My toy is not merchandise, but an inheritance; let me but look once more on Fenist the bright falcon, and thou shalt have it as a gift."--"Very well, come again in the evening, and drive the flies away from my bridegroom!" And again she gave Fenist the bright falcon a drink of magic sleeping venom and admitted the lovely damsel to his pillow. And the lovely damsel began to weep over her love, and at last one of the burning tears fell from her eyes upon his cheeks. Then Fenist the bright falcon awoke from his heavy slumbers and cried, "Alas! who was it who burned me?"--"Oh, darling of my desires!" said the lovely damsel, "I, thy maiden, have come to thee from afar. I have worn out shoes of iron, I have worn down staves of steel, I have gnawed away wafers of stone, and have sought thee everywhere, my beloved! This is the second day that I, thy damsel, have sorrowed over thee, and thou wokest not from thy slumber, nor made answer to my words!" Then only did Fenist the bright falcon know his beloved again, and was so overjoyed that words cannot tell of it. And the damsel told him all that had happened, how her wicked sisters had envied her, how she had wandered from land to land, and how the Tsarevna had bartered him for toys. Fenist fell in love with her more than ever, kissed her on her sugary mouth, and bade them set the bells a-ringing without delay, and assemble the Boyars and the Princes and the men of every degree in the market-place. And he began to ask them, "Tell me, good people, and answer me according to good sense, which bride ought I to take to wife and shorten the sorrow of life: her who sold me, or her who bought me back again?" And the people declared with one voice, "Her who bought thee back again!" And Fenist the bright falcon did so. They crowned him at the altar the same day in wedlock with the lovely damsel. The wedding was joyous and boisterous and magnificent. I also was at this wedding, and drank wine and mead, and the bumpers overflowed, and every one had his fill, and the beard was wet when the mouth was dry. THE TALE OF THE PEASANT DEMYAN. Whether it is a long time ago or a short time ago I cannot say, but I know that once upon a time, in a certain village, dwelt a peasant who was headstrong and hot-tempered, and his name was Demyan. He was austere and hard and stern, always seeking an occasion to quarrel, and dealing hardly with whom-soever he fell out. Whatever any one said or did to him, he was always ready with his fists. He would invite a neighbour to be his guest, for instance, and force him to eat, and if the neighbour hung back a bit for bashfulness or courtesy, our peasant would pitch into him at once and cry, "In a strange house obey thy host!"