"You flatter me, great Prince Vladimir," Elie Muromitch replied. "They call me Elie Muromitch, the son of Ivanovitch. I travelled by the impassable road from the village of Karatchaev, through the splendid town of Murom—"
But here the valiant warriors interrupted Elie, and addressing the great prince, said,—
"O, kinsman of the sun, Prince Vladimir! What folly does this stranger speak? How could he possibly have ridden through the impassable road? None of us, valiant warriors though we be, would ever have dared so dangerous a deed. No one who ventured on that fatal road was ever heard of after; the road has been impassable for the last thirty years, on account of the Nightingale Thief, who has taken shelter there."
"Lo! prince, behold!" Elie Muromitch said. "See what my valiant arm has done; there, in yonder court, you will find the famous Nightingale Thief."
Prince Vladimir followed Elie Muromitch into the broad magnificent court to see the prisoner. Elie approached the Nightingale Thief, and whispered to him,—
"Listen and obey! Whistle as before, singing like a nightingale, hissing like a serpent, and roaring like a wild bull; and delight the great Prince Vladimir."
The thief whistled, imitating the singing of the nightingale, stunning and deafening all the prince's chiefs and warriors in Kiev. Then he hissed like a serpent and roared like a wild bull, till the inhabitants of the sacred city fled in all directions, filling the air with lamentations, while the horses
