four lines do not rime at all," said they, "and, besides
they do not make sense. A leaden bullet is no bird, the stable-boy
does his work outside, would you call him into the room? Nonsense,
nonsense! Drink!"

Yet before they had finished speaking, the third daughter raised the
curtain of the women's room, and stepped out. She was angry, yet she
could not suppress a smile.

"How so do our lines not make sense?" said she. "Listen a moment, and
I'll explain them to you: In the sky our leaden bullet will shoot your
phenix and your turtle-dove. On the earth our tiger-beast will devour
your sheep and your ox. On the table our pair of scissors will cut up
all your old books. And finally, in the room--well, the stable-boy can
marry your maid!"

Then the oldest son-in-law said: "Well scolded! Sister-in-law, you
know how to talk! If you were a man you would have had your degree
long ago. And, as a punishment, we will empty our three glasses."

Note: This is also a fairy-tale traditionally handed
down.

III

HOW GREED FOR A TRIFLING THING LED A MAN TO LOSE A GREAT ONE

Once upon a time there was an old woman, who had two sons. But her
older son did not love his parents, and left his mother and brother.
The younger one served her so faithfully, however, that all the people
spoke of his filial affection.

One day it happened that there was a theatrical performance given
outside the village. The younger son started to carry his mother there
on his back, so that she might look on. But there was a ravine before
the village, and he slipped and fell down in the middle of it. And his
mother was killed by the rolling stones, and her blood and flesh were
sprinkled about everywhere. The son stroked his mother's corpse, and
wept bitterly. He was about to kill himself when, suddenly, he saw a
priest standing before him.

The latter said: "Have no fear, for I can bring your mother back to
life again!" And as he said so, he stooped, gathered up her flesh and
bones, and laid them together as they should be. Then he breathed upon
them, and at once the mother was alive again. This made the son very
happy, and he thanked the priest on his knees. Yet on a sharp point of
rock he still saw a bit of his mother's flesh hanging, a bit about an
inch long.

"That should not be left hanging there either," said he, and hid it in
his breast.

"In truth, you love your mother as a son should," said the priest.
Then he bade the so