Tales and Legends from the Land of the Tzar/"If you don't like it, don't listen, but don't spoil my Lies"
"IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T LISTEN; BUT DON'T SPOIL MY LIES."[1]
There once lived three brothers, two of whom were clever, and the third was stupid. One day they went into the forest to cut wood, when it occurred to them that it would be a pleasant thing to have their meals there; so they put some grouts in a pot and then added some cold water, but when it came to the boiling they did not know whence to get the fire! Now it so happened that not very far from where they were was a hut, in which lived an old man who kept bees. The eldest brother, remembering this, said,—
"I will go and ask that old man for some fire to boil our porridge with."
Away he went to the hut where he found the old man looking after his bees.
"Little father!" said the young fellow, "give me some fire!"
"Sing me a song first," replied the old man.
"I cannot sing, little father."
"Well then, let me see you dance."
"I can't dance!"
"Well then, go and send some one who can, somebody who is not quite such an ass as you."
So the eldest returned to his brothers without the fire.
"What a donkey you are to be sure!" cried the second brother. "Fancy coming back without any fire after all! Let me go, I shall be sure to bring it in a moment!"
So off he went, and on arriving at the hut he said to the old man,—
"Give me some fire, little father!"
"First sing me a song."
"I can't; I never learnt singing."
"Well then, tell me a story."
"I can't, little father; I know nothing!"
"Well then, send somebody who is more clever than you, and who understands something."
So this one also returned to his brothers, and the two clever ones sat looking at each other, wondering what they had best do.
Meanwhile the fool of the family looked at his brothers and laughed to himself,—
"They call themselves clever, indeed; but yet could not get the fire!" So he went to the hut to try his luck.
"Have you got any fire to spare, little father?" asked the fool.
"Yes, my boy; but first of all you must let me see you dance!"
"I can't dance, little father."
"Well then, tell me a story!"
"Ah, that is more in my line! Come outside and sit upon the hurdle which is lying on the ground near the door, and I will tell you a story. But do not interrupt me; if you do—then you must give me a hundred roubles. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my son!"
So they went out, and the old man seated himself on the hurdle near his door, while the fool sat down opposite him and began his tale.
"I had once a little piebald pony; I seated myself on him one fine day and rode off into the forest to cut wood. I had stuck my axe into my belt behind me, and as the pony ran the axe kept on knocking the unfortunate little creature on his back, until it cut him right in two! Are you listening, little father?"
"Yes, yes, my son!"
"Well, I rode on and on in this way for three whole years, until what should I see but the hinder part of my horse near a lake! I dismounted, and after catching it I sewed the two halves together, and rode on for another three years. Are you listening, little father?"
"Yes, yes, my son!"
"I rode and rode, until I came to a forest, where I saw a tremendously high tree. I climbed up this tree, higher and higher, until I came to the next world. After having looked about me, I found out that the cattle was wonderfully cheap about there, but the flies and mosquitoes were dreadfully dear; so I came down again to the earth, and after catching some bags full of flies and mosquitoes I climbed up to the next world again, where I disposed of them, and got in exchange a great number of cattle, so many in fact that it was impossible to count them all! Well, I collected all these sheep and oxen, and drove them to the place from which I had descended before; but when I looked over the edge of the cloud I found that the big tree was there no longer, it had evidently been cut down. I was greatly troubled in my mind, and began to wonder what I had better do, how I could best descend. At last I decided to make a rope and let myself down; to do this I had to cut up the cattle. When I had made a very long strap I began to descend; down, down I went until I came to the end of the strap, and then I found that it was not long enough, another piece of skin much longer than your hut is high was wanting, and I did not care to jump it, for I was afraid. Are you listening, little father?"
"Yes, yes, my son; go on!"
"Well, just as I was hanging there a very high wind arose and began blowing me about from one place to another, first to Moscow, then to St. Petersburg, until the strap broke and I was thrown into the mire, where I sunk and sunk so deep that at last nothing but my head remained above the surface. I tried to get out but could not, I had to stop in that position for a very long time, unable to move or do anything. At last a wild duck built her nest upon my head, and I could do nothing to prevent it! One day a wolf who was walking about in the fields came up to the nest on my head, and commenced eating the eggs. I somehow managed to free my hand from the mire, and seizing the wolf by the tail, yelled out as loud as ever I could, 'Too-loo-loo-whoo!' And he ran off dragging me out after him. Are you listening, little father?"
"Yes, yes, my son!"
The fool felt rather disgusted; he had finished his story, but the old man had kept his word and had not interrupted him once. What was he to do to get the hundred roubles out of him as well as the fire? At last he thought he would try and tease him, so he began a new story.
"I have a document in my possession, old man, showing that your father will for ever have to pay his debts to my father for having used forged documents, and—"
"That is a lie!" cried the old man, interrupting the story; "it is more likely that your father will for ever have to pay his debts to my father!"
The fool laughed; it was just what he wanted, and just what he expected. He took the fire and the hundred roubles from the old man, and returned to his brothers. They then hung the pot of porridge by means of a tripod over the fire, and when it was ready they wisely set to work to eat it up. And this is the end of our story.
- ↑ A Russian proverb.