Slavonic Fairy Tales
Collected and Translated From The Russian, Polish, Servian, and Bohemian
9781465592835
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
A certain magician being angry with a young peasant, came to the hut where he lived and stuck a new and sharp knife under the threshold, repeating an incantation as he did so, accompanied by this wish: "May this peasant be seized and carried away by the wind into the air, there to remain for seven whole years." The peasant went into the fields to make hay, when all of a sudden a great wind arose. It scattered the hay over the field, and seized the peasant himself. In vain he struggled, in vain he caught hold with his strong arms of hedge or branch of tree, the invisible power lifted him up and carried him away. Borne, as if on the wings of the wind, among the clouds, he flew like a wild pigeon. The sun began already to disappear in the west, and the hungry peasant could see the smoke ascending from the cottages in his village, where supper was cooking. At one time he could almost touch the chimney pots with his feet, and he screamed aloud for help. But he screamed and wept in vain; no one heard his cries, or saw his bitter tears. He was thus carried about in the air for nearly three months, and by that time, from hunger and thirst, had become dried up like a piece of wood. He travelled over a large part of the world, but the wind carried him chiefly over the village where he had lived. With tears in his eyes he would look on the hut where dwelt his betrothed. He would see her coming out with dinner for some one of the family. He would spread his thin, cold arms towards her, and call her by her name. His voice would die in his throat, while the girl would not even look up. Away and away the peasant was borne by the wind. Presently he saw the cruel magician standing before his own house. The magician looked up and shouted to him: "Ah, I have not done with you yet; you shall be thus carried by the wind over your own village for seven long years. You shall suffer constantly, and wish you were dead; but you shall not be able to die." "Oh, my little father, my master, forgive me if I have offended you!" cried the poor fellow from above. "Look at me; see, my mouth is as dry as a chip! Look at my face and hands—the flesh is gone from them, and the bones only are left! Have mercy upon me!"
