Prevod

There was once a village where all the peasants were rich except one, whom they called the Little Peasant. He did not even have a cow, much less the money to buy one, though he and his wife would dearly have liked one. One day he said to her, “Listen, I have a good idea. Our friend the carpenter can make us a calf out of wood and paint it brown, so it looks like a real one. In time it may well grow into a cow.” His wife liked the idea too, and their friend the carpenter hammered and planed the calf into shape, painted it as he should, and made it with its head lowered as though it were grazing.

When the cows were driven out the next morning, the Little Peasant called the herdsman inside and said, “Look, I have a little calf here, but it is still small and must be carried.” The herdsman said, “Very well,” took it in his arms, carried it out to pasture, and set it in the grass. The little calf stood there all day as though it were grazing, and the herdsman said, “It will soon be walking on its own. Just look how much it eats already!” That evening, when he was ready to drive the herd home, he said to the calf, “If you can stand there and eat your fill, you can walk on your own four legs too. I am not going to lug you home in my arms again.” But the Little Peasant was standing at his door, waiting for his calf. When the herdsman drove the cows through the village and the calf was missing, he asked after it. The herdsman replied, “It is still out there eating. It would neither stop nor come along.” But the Little Peasant said, “Nonsense! I must have my animal back.” So they went back to the meadow together, but someone had stolen the calf, and it was gone. “It must have strayed,” said the herdsman. But the Little Peasant said, “That will not do for me!” and brought the herdsman before the village magistrate, who ruled that, for his negligence, he must give the Little Peasant a cow in place of the missing calf.

Now the Little Peasant and his wife had the cow they had long wished for. They were delighted, but they had no fodder and nothing to feed it, so before long it had to be slaughtered. They salted the meat, and the Little Peasant set off for town to sell the hide and use the money to buy another little calf. On the way he came to a mill, where a raven was sitting with broken wings. Out of pity he picked it up and wrapped it in the hide. But the weather grew so foul, with wind and driving rain, that he could go no farther. He went into the mill and asked for shelter. The miller’s wife was home alone and said to the Little Peasant, “Lie down there on the straw,” and gave him some bread and cheese. The Little Peasant ate and lay down with his hide beside him, and the woman thought, “He is tired and asleep.” Just then the priest arrived. The miller’s wife welcomed him warmly and said, “My husband is away, so let us have a feast.” The Little Peasant pricked up his ears, and when he heard about the feast, he was annoyed that he had been made to do with bread and cheese. The woman brought out four things and set them on the table: roast meat, salad, cake, and wine.

Just as they sat down to eat, there was a knock outside. “Oh, heavens!” said the woman. “That is my husband!” She quickly hid the roast in a compartment of the tiled stove, the wine under the pillow, the salad on the bed, the cake under the bed, and the priest in the cupboard out in the entrance hall. Then she opened the door to her husband and said, “Thank goodness you are home again! What weather! You would think the world was coming to an end!” The miller saw the Little Peasant lying on the straw and asked, “What is that fellow doing here?” “Oh,” said his wife, “the poor wretch came through the wind and rain and asked for shelter, so I gave him some bread and cheese and showed him where he could lie down on the straw.” “I have no objection,” said her husband, “but get me something to eat quickly.” His wife said, “I have nothing but bread and cheese.” “Anything will do for me,” her husband answered. “Bread and cheese, then.” He looked at the Little Peasant and called, “Come and have another bite with me.” The Little Peasant did not need to be asked twice. He got up and ate with him. Then the miller noticed the hide lying on the floor with the raven inside it and asked, “What have you got there?” The Little Peasant answered, “I have a soothsayer in there.” “Can he tell my fortune too?” asked the miller.

“Why not?” answered the Little Peasant. “But he will tell only four things, and the fifth he keeps to himself.” The miller was curious and said, “Let him make a prediction, then.” The Little Peasant pressed the raven’s head until it croaked, “Krr, krr.” “What did he say?” asked the miller. The Little Peasant answered, “First, he said there was wine under the pillow.” “Well, I’ll be damned!” cried the miller. He went to look and found the wine. “Now go on,” said the miller. The Little Peasant made the raven croak again and said, “Second, he said there was roast meat in the tiled stove.” “Well, I’ll be damned!” cried the miller. He went to look and found the roast. The Little Peasant made the raven prophesy again and said, “Third, he said there was salad on the bed.” “Well, I’ll be damned!” cried the miller. He went to look and found the salad. At last the Little Peasant squeezed the raven once more until it gave a growling croak, and said, “Fourth, he said there was cake under the bed.” “Well, I’ll be damned!” cried the miller. He went to look and found the cake.

Now the two sat down at the table together, but the miller’s wife was terrified. She took to her bed and kept all the keys with her. The miller was eager to hear the fifth thing too, but the Little Peasant said, “First let us eat the other four things in peace, for the fifth is something dreadful.” So they ate, and afterward they bargained over how much the miller should pay for the fifth prophecy, until they agreed on three hundred thalers. Then the Little Peasant pressed the raven’s head once more, making it croak loudly. “What did he say?” asked the miller. The Little Peasant answered, “He said the devil was hiding in the cupboard out in the entrance hall.” “The devil must be driven out!” said the miller, and he flung open the front door. His wife had to hand over the key, and the Little Peasant unlocked the cupboard. Out ran the priest as fast as his legs would carry him, and the miller said, “I saw the fellow in black with my own eyes. It was true!” The next morning, at first light, the Little Peasant slipped away with the three hundred thalers.

Back home, the Little Peasant gradually began to live in style and built himself a handsome house. The other peasants said, “The Little Peasant must have been to the place where golden snow falls and people carry money home by the bushel.” So the Little Peasant was summoned before the magistrate to explain where his wealth had come from. He answered, “I sold my cowhide in town for three hundred thalers.” When the peasants heard this, they wanted a share in such handsome profits. They ran home, killed all their cows, and stripped off the hides to sell in town for a great deal of money. The magistrate said, “My maid must go first.” But when she reached the merchant in town, he gave her no more than three thalers for a hide. When the others arrived, he would not give them even that much, and said, “What am I to do with all these hides?”

Now the peasants were furious that the Little Peasant had deceived them. They wanted revenge and brought a charge of fraud against him before the magistrate. The innocent Little Peasant was unanimously condemned to death: he was to be rolled into the water in a barrel riddled with holes. He was led out, and a priest was brought to say a mass for his soul. Everyone else had to withdraw, and when the Little Peasant looked at the priest, he recognized the man who had been with the miller’s wife. He said to him, “I freed you from the cupboard; now free me from the barrel.” Just then a shepherd came by with a flock of sheep. The Little Peasant knew that he had long wanted to become magistrate, so he shouted at the top of his voice, “No, I will not do it! Even if the whole world wanted me to, no, I will not do it!” Hearing this, the shepherd came over and asked, “What are you up to? What is it you will not do?” The Little Peasant said, “They want to make me magistrate if I get into this barrel, but I will not do it.” The shepherd said, “If that is all it takes to become magistrate, I would get into the barrel this very moment.” The Little Peasant said, “If you will get in, you will become magistrate too.” The shepherd was quite content with that and climbed inside, and the Little Peasant fastened the lid over him. Then he took the shepherd’s flock for himself and drove it away. Meanwhile, the priest went back to the villagers and told them the mass for the condemned man’s soul had been said. They came and rolled the barrel toward the water. As it began to roll, the shepherd cried, “I am quite willing to be magistrate!” They were certain it was the Little Peasant shouting, and said, “So we should think! But first you must have a look around down below.” And they rolled the barrel into the water.

Then the peasants went home, and as they came into the village, there was the Little Peasant, calmly driving in a flock of sheep and looking perfectly content. They were astonished and said, “Little Peasant, where have you come from? Have you come out of the water?” “Of course,” answered the Little Peasant. “I sank deep, deep down, until at last I reached the bottom. I knocked the bottom out of the barrel and crawled out, and there were lovely meadows with flocks of lambs grazing on them. That is where I got this flock.” “Are there any more?” asked the peasants. “Oh yes,” said the Little Peasant, “more than you could ever want.” Then the peasants agreed that they too would fetch some sheep, a flock apiece, but the magistrate said, “I shall go first.” So they all went down to the water. Little fleecy clouds, the kind people call lambs, were floating in the blue sky just then, and their reflections shone in the water. The peasants cried, “We can already see the sheep down on the bottom!” The magistrate pushed to the front and said, “Now I shall go down first and have a look. If all is well, I shall call you.” He jumped in, and the water went “Plump!” They took the sound for his calling “Come!” and the whole crowd plunged in after him in one great rush. So the village was left deserted, and the Little Peasant, as its sole heir, became a rich man.