Here begins the tale of a grey horse, a chestnut horse and of the wise fallow-bay. On the shore of the ocean, in the isle of Buyán, there stood a roasted ox, and behind pounded garlic: on the one side cut your meat, on the other dip deep and eat. Once upon a time there lived a merchant who had a son, and when the son grew up he was taken into the shop. Now, the first wife of the merchant died, and he married a second. After some months the merchant made ready to sail to foreign lands, and he loaded his ship with goods and he bade his son look after the house well and attend to business duly. Then the merchant’s son asked, “_Bátyushka_,[40] when you go, get me my luck!” “My beloved son,” answered the old man, “where shall I find it?” “It is not far to seek, my luck. When you get up to-morrow morning, stand at the gates and buy the first thing that meets you and give it to me.” “Very well, my son.” So next day the father got up very early, stood outside the gates, and the first thing that met him was a peasant who was selling a sorry, scabby foal—mere dog’s meat. So the merchant bargained for it and got it for a silver rouble, took the foal into the courtyard and put it into the stable. Then the merchant’s son asked him, “Well, _bátyushka_, what have you found as my luck?” “I went out to find it, and it turned into a very poor thing.” “Well, so it really had to be: whatever luck the Lord has given us we must use.” Then the father set sail with his goods into foreign lands, and the son sat on the counter and engaged in trade. He grew into the habit, whether he were going into the shop or returning home, always to go and stand in front of his foal. Now, his stepmother did not love her stepson, and looked out for fortune-tellers to learn how to get rid of him. At last she found an old wise woman, who gave her a poison and bade her put it under the threshold just when her stepson was coming in. As he came back from the shop, the merchant’s son went into the stable and saw that his foal was standing in tears, and so he stroked him and asked, “Why, my good horse, do you weep? Why your counsel do you keep?” Then the foal answered, “Oh, Iván the merchant’s son, my beloved master, why should I not weep? Your stepmother is trying to ruin you. You have a dog: when you go home let it go in front of you, and you will see what will come to it.” So the merchant’s son listened, and as soon as ever the dog crossed the threshold it was torn into small atoms. Iván the merchant’s son never let his stepmother know that he saw through her spite, and set out next day to the shop, whilst the stepmother went to see the soothsayer. So the old woman got a second poison, and bade her put it into the trough. In the evening, as he went home, the merchant’s son went into the stable; and once more the foal was standing on tip-toes and in tears; and he struck him on the haunches and said, “Why, my good horse, do you weep? Why your counsel do you keep?”