Tzarevich Alexé saw the sharp sword girded at the ferryman's side and his rebellious head drooped lower than his broad shoulders. "Of small use to myself should I be without my good right hand," he thought. "Yet, if I succeed, I shall be Tzar, and a Tzardom is worth the price."
So he bade the other take him across and on the further side the ferryman drew his sword and struck off his right hand, and bemoaning its loss the Tzarevich spurred on alone. He rode one day, he rode two, and three, and came to the second river, and on its bank waited a ferryman as tall as a fir-tree, armored with plates of silver and of such a countenance that Tzarevich Alexé's heart fainted for very fear, and turning, he struck spurs to his steed and rode back the way he had come, to his own Tzardom.
When he reached the capital, he entered the Palace, came to his father, and said: "Gracious Sir! I have searched, these months through, in many lands, till there remains not a single man of the great host I took with me, while I myself have lost my right hand, but no trace of Kastchey the Wizard or of the Tzaritza, my little mother, could I find!"
Then Tzar Bel-Belianin embraced him and wept
