When he reached the stream it asked if he brought it any good news.
“When I get across I will tell you,” said he. So the stream parted; he
walked through and on to the highest part of the bank. He stopped and
shouted out:
“Listen, oh stream! Lucky Luck says you will never have any living
creature in your waters until someone is drowned in you.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth when the stream swelled and
overflowed till it reached the rock up which he had climbed, and dashed
so far up it that the spray flew over him. But he clung on tight, and
after failing to reach him three times the stream returned to its
proper course. Then the prince climbed down, dried himself in the sun,
and set out on his march home.
He spent the night once more at the mill and gave the miller his
answer, and by-and-by he told the three sisters not to throw out all
their sweepings in the face of the sun.
The prince had hardly arrived at home when some thieves tried to ford
the stream with a fine horse they had stolen. When they were half-way
across, the stream rose so suddenly that it swept them all away. From
that time it became the best fishing stream in the country-side.
The miller, too, began to give alms and became a very good man, and in
time grew so rich that he hardly knew how much he had.
And the three sisters, now that they no longer insulted the sun, had
each a wooer within a week.
When the prince got home he found that his wife had just got a fine
little boy. He did not lose a moment in pricking the baby’s finger till
the blood ran, and he brushed it on the wrists of the stone figure,
which shuddered all over and split with a loud noise in seven parts and
there was the faithful servant alive and well.
When the old king saw this he foamed with rage, stared wildly about,
flung himself on the ground and died.
The servant stayed on with his royal master and served him faithfully
all the rest of his life; and, if neither of them is dead, he is
serving him still.
[From Ungarische Mährchen.]
The Hairy Man
Somewhere or other, but I don’t know where, there lived a king who
owned two remarkably fine fields of rape, but every night two of the
rape heaps were burnt down in one of the fields. The king was extremely
angry at this, and sent out soldiers to catch whoever had set fire to
the ricks; but it was all of no use—not a soul could they see. Then he
offered nine hundred crowns to anyone who caught the evil-doer, and at
the same time ordered that whoever did not keep proper watch over the
fields should be killed; but though there were a great many people,
none seemed able to protect the fields.
The king had already put ninety-nine people to death, when a little
swineherd came to him who had two dogs; one was called “Psst,” and the
other “Hush”; and the boy told the king that he would watch over the
ricks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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