, who suddenly became once more her little
brother Vanoushka, who had been so thirsty as to drink water from the
hoofmark of a sheep. And Vanoushka laughed and shouted in the
sunshine, and the fine gentleman wept tears of joy. And they all
praised God and kissed each other, and went home together, and began
to live as happily as before, even more happily, because Vanoushka was
no longer a lamb. But as soon as they got home the fine gentleman
turned the old witch out of the house. And she became an ugly old hag,
and went away to the deep woods, shrieking as she went.

"And did she ever come back again?" asked Ivan.

"No, she never came back again," said old Peter. "Once was enough."

"And what happened to Vanoushka when he grew up?"

"He grew up as handsome as Alenoushka was pretty. And he became a
great hunter. And he married the sister of the fine gentleman. And
they all lived happily together, and ate honey every day, with white
bread and new milk."

THE FIRE-BIRD, THE HORSE OF POWER, AND THE PRINCESS VASILISSA.

Once upon a time a strong and powerful Tzar ruled in a country far
away. And among his servants was a young archer, and this archer had a
horse--a horse of power--such a horse as belonged to the wonderful men
of long ago--a great horse with a broad chest, eyes like fire, and
hoofs of iron. There are no such horses nowadays. They sleep with the
strong men who rode them, the bogatirs, until the time comes when
Russia has need of them. Then the great horses will thunder up from
under the ground, and the valiant men leap from the graves in the
armour they have worn so long. The strong men will sit those horses of
power, and there will be swinging of clubs and thunder of hoofs, and
the earth will be swept clean from the enemies of God and the Tzar. So
my grandfather used to say, and he was as much older than I as I am
older than you, little ones, and so he should know.

Well, one day long ago, in the green time of the year, the young
archer rode through the forest on his horse of power. The trees were
green; there were little blue flowers on the ground under the trees;
the squirrels ran in the branches, and the hares in the undergrowth;
but no birds sang. The young archer rode along the forest path and
listened for the singing of the birds, but there was no singing. The
forest was silent, and the only noises in it were the scratching of
four-footed beasts, the dropping of fir cones, and the heavy st