Read on line
Listen on line
Main > Ukrainian folktales > Fairy tale "The Voices at the Window"

The Voices at the Window

Wherefore this shall befall thee on thy way home. Thou shalt come upon a spring by the roadside, a spring of pure water, and thou shalt desire to drink of it, and when thou hast drunk thereof thou shalt burst. But if any of these thy huntsmen hear and tell thee of this thing, he shall become stone to the girdle.” All this that huntsman heard, and he thought to himself, “Woe is me!”

Again, toward the third cockcrow, he heard something else coming to the window, and it said, “Oh, thou son of a dog! thou didst say, ‘If only we had a warm hut, and a white bed, and soft bread, and sour kvas, we should have naught to complain of, but would tell tales and feign fables till dawn’; but now thou hast forgotten all thy fine promises! Wherefore this shall befall thee on thy way home. Thou shalt come upon a feather-bed in the highway; a longing for rest shall come over thee, and thou wilt lie down on it, and the moment thou liest down thereon thou shalt burst. But if any of thy huntsmen hear this thing and tell it thee, he shall become stone up to the neck!” All this that huntsman heard, and then he awoke his comrades and said, “It is time to depart!”––“Let us go then,” said the nobleman.

So on they went, and they had not gone very far when they saw an apple-tree growing by the wayside, and on it were apples so beautiful that words cannot describe them. The nobleman felt that he must taste of these apples or die; but the wakeful huntsman rushed up and cut down the apple-tree, whereupon apples and apple-tree turned to ashes. But the huntsman galloped on before and hid himself.

They went on a little farther till they came to a spring, and the water of that spring was so pure and clear that words cannot describe it. Then the nobleman felt that he must drink of that water or die; but the huntsman rushed up and splashed in the spring with his sword, and immediately the water turned to blood. The nobleman was wrath, and cried, “Cut me down that son of a dog!” But the huntsman rode on in front and hid himself.

Also read
Good Will Grow Out of Good
Category: Indian folktales
Read times: 28