he lapse of five long years,
I noticed some blossoms on the branches, and a few days later the most
exquisite fruit my eyes had ever seen.

'I gave my head-gardener the strictest orders to watch the trees
carefully, for the magician had warned my father that if one unripe
fruit were plucked from the tree, all the rest would become rotten at
once. When it was quite ripe the fruit would become a golden yellow.

'Every day I gazed on the lovely fruit, which became gradually more
and more tempting-looking, and it was all I could do not to break the
magician's commands.

[Footnote 22: From the Russian. Kletke.]

'One night I dreamt that the fruit was perfectly ripe; I ate some of
it, and it was more delicious than anything I had ever tasted in real
life. As soon as I awoke I sent for the gardener and asked him if the
fruit on the three trees had not ripened in the night to perfection.

'But instead of replying, the gardener threw himself at my feet and
swore that he was innocent. He said that he had watched by the trees
all night, but in spite of it, and as if by magic, the beautiful trees
had been robbed of all their fruit.

'Grieved as I was over the theft, I did not punish the gardener, of
whose fidelity I was well assured, but I determined to pluck off all
the fruit in the following year before it was ripe, as I had not much
belief in the magician's warning.

'I carried out my intention, and had all the fruit picked off the
tree, but when I tasted one of the apples it was bitter and
unpleasant, and the next morning the rest of the fruit had all rotted
away.

'After this I had the beautiful fruit of these trees carefully guarded
by my most faithful servants; but every year, on this very night, the
fruit was plucked and stolen by an invisible hand, and next morning
not a single apple remained on the trees. For some time past I have
given up even having the trees watched.'

When the King had finished his story, Szabo, his eldest son, said to
him: 'Forgive me, father, if I say I think you are mistaken. I am sure
there are many men in your kingdom who could protect these trees from
the cunning arts of a thieving magician; I myself, who as your eldest
son claim the first right to do so, will mount guard over the fruit
this very night.'

The King consented, and as soon as evening drew on Szabo climbed up on
to one of the trees, determined to protect the fruit even if it cost
him his life. So he kept watch half the