The mother went into the cellar and brought him a glass of wine from the last cask. As soon as he had drained the first cup, crash! the first chain fell down. The mother brought him another cup and—well! the second chain snapped. So he begged her to bring him a third cup, and when she brought him the third cup the third chain broke too and the griffin was free again.
"But what am I to tell my son when he comes back?" said the mother anxiously.
"Oh! you must feign illness, and when he asks you what will save you, say that nothing can save you but a suckling of the earth sow. When he goes to get it, the sow will tear him in pieces."
Well (but not particularly well!), when Víťazko returned from the chase, bringing a buck for his mother, she groaned and complained: "Alas! my dear son, your toil has been in vain. It is no use your bringing me this good food; I cannot eat it, for I am deadly sick."
"Alas! mother, you must not die. Only tell me what would cure you, and I will bring it for you, even though it were from hell," cried the good Víťazko, for he loved his mother well.
