im, and even shouting his name: "Ho! Petru!" He wanted to
halt.

"Forward, forward," cried the bay. "You'll fare badly if you stop."

"No, no, stop! Let us see who and what it is, and what is wanted. Let
me look the world in the face!" So saying, Petru turned the bay's
bridle.

Oh, Petru, Petru! Who told you to stop? Wouldn't it be better for you
to remember what Holy Thursday said to you? Wouldn't it be better for
you to heed the bay's counsel? That's the way of the world, you can do
nothing to change it!

When he turned, he saw his brother Florea and his brother Costan. They
were both there, and approached Petru. Forward, Petru, hurry on! Or
did not Holy Thursday tell you that you must enter into conversation
with no one? Or do you no longer remember the tidings Holy Wednesday's
box brought you? The brothers drew near with fair words and honey on
their lips. What did Holy Thursday say? Petru, Petru, have you
forgotten?

When Petru saw his dear brothers, he leaped from the bay's back and
rushed into their arms. Dear me! how could he help it? How long it was
since he had seen a human face or heard one word of human speech! The
conversation flowed as it flows among brothers. Petru was gay and
happy; Florea and Costan were full of sweet words, there was honey on
their lips. Only the bay was sad and hung his head mournfully. After
the brothers had talked a long time about the old emperor, the
country, and Petru's journey, Florea began to frown.

"Brother Petru, this is a wicked world!--wouldn't it be better for you
to give us the water to carry? People will come to meet you, but
nobody will know any thing about us, whence we come, where we are
going, or what we have."

"Yes, indeed," said Costan, "Florea speaks sensibly."

Petru shook his head once or twice, and then told his brothers about
his charmed handkerchief. They now perceived that there was only one
way to kill the hero, so Florea began to talk to Petru over Costan's
shoulders. About three stones'-throws off was a well of clear, cold
water.

"Aren't you thirsty, Costan?" asked Florea, winking at Costan.

"Yes," replied Costan, understanding what Florea meant. "Come, Petru,
let us quench our thirst, and then may God help us on our way. We'll
follow you to protect you from annoyance and danger."

Don't go, Petru, don't go, or you'll fare badly! The bay horse neighed
but once. Ah, but the hero did not understand. What happened then!
What should happen?