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Main > Czechoslovak folktale > Fairy tale "The Golden Duck: The Story of Prince Raduz and the Faithful Ludmila"

The Golden Duck: The Story of Prince Raduz and the Faithful Ludmila

Tomorrow morning bring me the fresh loaves. Today you shall have no tools of any kind. Go now and do this task or suffer the consequences.”

As Raduz started off, Yezibaba looked after him and shook her head suspiciously.

“I don’t understand this,” she said to her husband. “He could never have done these two tasks alone. Do you suppose Ludmila has been helping him? I’ll punish her if she has!”

“Shame on you,” the old man said, “to talk so of your own daughter! Ludmila is a good girl and has always been loyal and obedient.”

“I hope so,” Yezibaba said, “but just the same I think I myself will carry him out his dinner today.”

“Nonsense, old woman! You’ll do no such thing! You’re always smelling a rat somewhere! Let the boy alone and don’t go nagging at Ludmila either!”

So Yezibaba said no more. This time she cooked a mess of lizards for Raduz’ dinner.

“Here, Ludmila,” she said, “carry this out to the young man. But see that you don’t talk to him. And hurry back.”

Poor Raduz had been pounding stones one on another as well as he could, but he hadn’t been able to grind any of them into flour. As noonday approached he kept looking up anxiously to see whether beautiful Ludmila was again coming to help him.

“Here I am,” she called while she was yet some distance away. “You were to have lizard stew today but, see, I am bringing you my own dinner!”

Then she told him what she had heard Yezibaba say to her father.

“Today she almost brought you your dinner herself, for she suspects that I have been helping you. If she knew that I really had she would kill you.”

“Dear Ludmila,” Raduz said, “I know very well that without you I am lost! How can I ever thank you for all you have done for me?”

Ludmila said she didn’t want thanks. She was helping Raduz because she was sorry for him and loved him.

Then she took Yezibaba’s wand and struck the rocky cliff. At once, instead of the bare rock, there were sacks of grain and a millstone that worked merrily away grinding out fine flour.

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