Kuz’ma Skorobogaty.1

Kuz’ma Skorobogaty.1

There was once a peasant and his wife, and they had one son, and he, though good, was a block-head, and no good at all for working in the fields. “Husband mine,” said the mother, “there is not much wit in our son, and he will eat us out of house and home; send him away, let him live by himself, and make his own way in the world.” So they sent away their son; they gave him a most wretched little nag, a tumble-down hut in the wood, and a cock with five hens. And little Kuz’ma lived alone, all alone in the dark wood.

The next day the little fox again came running to court. The Tsar asked her: “Where, then, is our destined son-in-law?” The little fox replied: “He bade me bow low before you and say that to-day he cannot manage to come anyhow!”—“How so?” “Well, he is frightfully busy; he is getting together all his things to come to you, and just now he is counting up his treasures. So now he begs you to lend him a corn-measure, he must measure his silver money; his corn-measures are all choke-full of gold.” The Tsar, without more ado, gave the fox the corn-measure, but he said to himself: “Well done, fox! This is something like a son-in-law that has fallen to our lot. He actually measures his gold and silver with corn-measures!” The next day the fox again came running to court and returned the Tsar his corn-measure (but she had stuck little silver pieces all about the corners of it), and said: “Your destined son-in-law, Kuz’ma Skorobogaty, bade me bow low to you and say that to-day he’ll be with you with all his riches.” The Tsar was delighted, and bade them have everything ready for the reception of the precious guest. But the little fox set off for Kuz’ma’s hut, and there, for the last two days, Kuz’ma had been lying on the stove—hungry, oh! so hungry, and waiting. The fox said to him: “Why dost thou lie down like that? I have got thee a bride from Tsar Ogon and the Tsaritsa Molnya. Let us come to them as guests and celebrate the wedding!”—“Why, fox! art thou out of thy wits? How can I go when I haven’t even clothes to cover me?”—“Go! saddle thy nag, I say! and don’t bother thy head about that!” Kuz’ma brought out his sorry jade from beneath the shed, covered it with a mat, put on the reins, jumped on its back, and set off after the fox at a light trot. They were already drawing near to the palace, when they came across a little bridge directly in their path. “Jump off thy horse!” said the fox to Kuz’ma, “and saw through the buttresses of this bridge.” So little Kuz’ma fell a-sawing with all his might, and sawed through the buttresses of the bridge. Down came the bridge with a crash. “Now, strip thyself naked, throw thy horse and all thy clothes into the water, and roll about in the sand, and wait for me!” That’s what the fox said; and then off she ran to the Tsar and the Tsaritsa, and cried to them from afar: “Hi, dear little father! Such an accident! Help, help!”—“What’s the matter, dear little foxy?” asked the Tsar.—“Why, this; the bridges in your tsardom are not strong enough. Your destined son-in-law was coming to you with all his riches, and this precious bridge broke down beneath the weight of them, and all his wealth and all his people have fallen in, and he himself is lying on the bridge more dead than alive!” The Tsar made a great to-do, and shrieked at his servants, and cried: “Haste ye, haste ye! as quickly as ye can, and take of my royal robes for Kuz’ma Skorobogaty, and save him from mortal harm!” And the envoys of the Tsar ran as fast as they could to the bridge, and there they saw little Kuz’ma rolling about in the sand. They picked him up, washed and dried him all over, arrayed him in the royal robes, curled his hair, and led him respectfully to the palace. The Tsar, full of joy that his destined son-in-law had been delivered from such peril, bade them ring all the bells, fire all the guns, and celebrate the wedding at once. So they crowned Kuz’ma as the groom of the Tsarevna, and he dwelt with his father-in-law, and sang songs all day; and the fox was held in high honour at court till life at court ceased to bore her, and she had no longer any desire to return to the woods.