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Once upon a time, as never before, and so on. There was once a great and mighty emperor who had three sons. When they were grown, the emperor pondered every possible way of marrying off his children so that they might be happy. One night, I cannot say what he dreamed, but the next morning, at daybreak, he summoned his sons and climbed with them to the gallery of a tower in his garden. He ordered a bow and an arrow to be brought for each of them. “Shoot your arrows, my sons,” the emperor told them, “and wherever each man’s arrow falls, there he shall find his fortune.” The sons obeyed without the slightest murmur, for they were sure their father knew what he was saying. So they shot, and the eldest son’s arrow lodged in the house of a neighboring emperor; the second son’s lodged in the house of one of the emperor’s great boyars; but the youngest son’s arrow soared high into the heavens. Their necks grew crooked from looking up after it, and they very nearly lost sight of it. Then they saw it coming down, and it lodged in a tall tree in a great forest. The eldest son went off, took the neighboring emperor’s daughter for his wife, and returned with her to his father. The middle son went too, and he likewise returned with a proud and beautiful bride. The youngest also set out. He wandered through the world until he reached the great forest where his arrow had fallen. He groped and stumbled through the thickets until he found the tree in which his arrow had lodged.

The tree was tall and stout, and as old as the earth God had made. He wrapped himself around its trunk and climbed until he could catch hold of a branch. Then, from branch to branch, now hanging by his hands, now clinging with his legs crossed and locked, he made his way to the very top. There he reached out and took his arrow. He climbed down with his heart full of bitterness and sorrow, thinking himself a man without luck, for what could he possibly find in that tree? It was not enough that he had failed to find his destined bride there, nor that he had traveled so far in vain: just as he was about to leave the tree, an owl fastened itself onto his back. He leaped up, he leaped down, but would the owl come off? Not a bit of it. The little devil had gripped him with its claws like some foul magpie and would not loosen its hold for so much as the time it takes to strike a spark. He twisted and turned, trying to shake off the pest, but nothing would do. At last, seeing how things stood, he resolved to go home with the creature on his back, and set off. On the way he noticed six other owls following him. The poor fellow traveled on with his retinue behind him, and timed his journey so as to reach home at night, lest the mischievous children make a laughingstock of him. As soon as he entered his chamber in his father’s palace, the six owls settled here and there, while the seventh, which had clung to his back, settled on the bed. The poor lad sat a while, considered, reflected, and turned the matter over in his mind, and in the end decided to leave them in peace and see what would come of this adventure. After all, he had at least rid himself of the burden on his back. And since he was worn out by so much traveling and all the commotion along the way, he fell asleep the moment he laid his head down, as though someone had struck him with the blunt edge of an axe. Next morning, what should his eyes behold? Beside him in bed lay a fairy so beautiful that anyone who saw her would be struck dumb and forget himself; and at the head of their bed stood six handmaidens, each more beautiful than the next. In a corner of the chamber he also saw seven owl skins thrown one upon another. His father marveled, and his mother marveled too, at such beauty and grace as neither had seen in all their days. When the wedding day of the eldest brother arrived, the emperor’s youngest son went alone, for he could not take the fairy with him, though she was to be his bride. Then, all at once, there she was, joining the hora beside him. He was beside himself with joy at the sight of her. He strutted, my friend, as though he were someone of great consequence, for there was no other woman like her in all their empire or those of their neighbors. All the wedding guests stared at her with eyes wide open. As for the other princes and lords invited to the wedding, they cast their glances at the handmaidens who had come with the fairy, each trying to join the hora beside one of them. And so they made merry until evening. At the feast, the fairy sat beside the emperor’s youngest son. They ate and celebrated until midnight. Then everyone went home. The emperor’s youngest son went to his chamber, and the fairy followed him. They lay down and slept like the royalty they were. When he rose in the morning and saw the owl skins still lying there, a shudder of disgust seized him as he remembered what he had suffered because of them. Then came the wedding of the emperor’s second son. The youngest son again went to the wedding alone, and again the fairy appeared; without another word, hop!—she joined the hora beside him. His heart swelled with joy and pride, especially when he saw the other princes and lords all longing for such a sweet morsel. Well, as the saying goes, denied the strawberries, they ate the leaves. They too soothed their longing by dancing in the hora with the fairy’s handmaidens. That evening they sat down to the feast once more. Whatever devil put the thought into the youngest prince’s head, he rose from the table, went to his chamber, took the owl skins and threw them into the fire, then returned and sat down again. Suddenly a stir arose among the guests. This was why. One of the handmaidens cried, “Mistress! We are in danger!” Another said, “Mistress! I smell burning. We are undone!” But she answered, “Hold your tongues! Must you choose this very moment, at the table, to talk nonsense?” Before long, however, the third spoke too: “Mistress! There is no escape. We have been foully betrayed.” At the same moment the fairy herself wrinkled her nose a little. Clearly the smell of the burning skins had reached her too. All at once they rose from the table together and turned into seven doves. Then the fairy said to the emperor’s youngest son, “You have been ungrateful. In peace I found you; in peace may you remain. Until you succeed in doing what no man in the world has done, you shall not find me.” They rose into the heavens and vanished from his sight. In vain the guests begged the prince to sit down at the table. In vain his parents and brothers urged him not to grieve so, for he kept his eyes fixed on the place where the doves had flown and would not return to the feast. At dawn the next day he set out to find his bride. He knew now that he could no longer live without her. He bade farewell to his parents and brothers and went wandering. He crossed hills, valleys, and ridges, passed through dark forests untrodden by human feet, and made his way through swamps and marshes, but could find no trace of his doves. The young hero fretted and searched, sought and inquired, yet accomplished nothing. With a broken heart, a soul crushed by sorrow, and love burning within him, he roamed like a dragon and a raging lion, but all in vain. Sometimes the thought came to him to end his own life, to fling himself into a ravine or dash his head against the rocky crags in the mountains. Yet his heart seemed to tell him that someday, someday, all his troubles would end, and at once he would come to himself and set off again, more eagerly and more firmly convinced that whoever searches carefully and perseveres must find what he seeks and achieve his desire. Worn out by toil and turmoil, he lay down in the shade of a little valley to rest a while. As he lay there, sleep stole over him. Suddenly he awoke to a clamor of human voices and sprang to his feet. And what should he see? Three devils were quarreling so fiercely that they foamed at the mouth. He went up to them with his chest thrust out and said, “A quarrel without a scuffle is like a wedding without fiddlers.” “Your words fit about as well as a walnut on a wall,” they answered. “We are not quarreling, only disputing.” “And what are you disputing about?” he asked. “For the din you are making would wake the dead.” “Look here: we have inherited a pair of rawhide shoes, a cap, and a whip from our father, and we cannot agree which of us should have which.” “And what use are these old things you are disputing over?” “Whoever puts on the shoes can cross the sea as though it were dry land. Whoever puts on the cap cannot be seen even by the devil, though he poke him in the eye. And whoever holds the whip and cracks it at his enemies turns them to stone.” “You are right to dispute, lads, for taken separately these old things are not worth two frozen onions. Here is what occurs to me, if you will listen and let me settle the matter fairly.” “We are listening, we are listening,” the devils answered in one breath. “Tell us how, and we shall see.” “Do you see those three mountains before us? Let each of you go to one of them, and whoever comes back fastest when I give the signal shall have all these things.” “Well spoken, sir! That is what we shall do. Bravo! At last we have found a man to give us justice.” At once the devils took to their heels, each racing toward a different mountain. Meanwhile the young hero put the shoes on his feet, the cap on his head, and took the whip in his hand. When the devils reached the mountaintops and were waiting for his signal, the emperor’s youngest son cracked the whip three times, once toward each devil, and turned them to stone where they stood. Then he went on his way, following the longing in his heart. He had scarcely taken ten steps when he saw a flock of seven doves overhead. He followed them with his eyes until he saw where they alighted. Thither he too directed his steps, toward the goal for which he had labored so long. “Must you choose this very moment to talk nonsense?” Before long, however, the third spoke too: “Mistress! There is no escape. We have been foully betrayed.” At the same moment the fairy herself wrinkled her nose a little. Clearly the smell of the burning skins had reached her too. All at once they rose from the table together and turned into seven doves. Then the fairy said to the emperor’s youngest son, “You have been ungrateful. In peace I found you; in peace may you remain. Until you succeed in doing what no man in the world has done, you shall not find me.” They rose into the heavens and vanished from his sight. In vain the guests begged the prince to sit down at the table. In vain his parents and brothers urged him not to grieve so, for he kept his eyes fixed on the place where the doves had flown and would not return to the feast. At dawn the next day he set out to find his bride. He knew now that he could no longer live without her. He bade farewell to his parents and brothers and went wandering. He crossed hills, valleys, and ridges, passed through dark forests untrodden by human feet, and made his way through swamps and marshes, but could find no trace of his doves. The young hero fretted and searched, sought and inquired, yet accomplished nothing. With a broken heart, a soul crushed by sorrow, and love burning within him, he roamed like a dragon and a raging lion, but all in vain. Sometimes the thought came to him to end his own life, to fling himself into a ravine or dash his head against the rocky crags in the mountains. Yet his heart seemed to tell him that someday, someday, all his troubles would end, and at once he would come to himself and set off again, more eagerly and more firmly convinced that whoever searches carefully and perseveres must find what he seeks and achieve his desire. Worn out by toil and turmoil, he lay down in the shade of a little valley to rest a while. As he lay there, sleep stole over him. Suddenly he awoke to a clamor of human voices and sprang to his feet. And what should he see? Three devils were quarreling so fiercely that they foamed at the mouth. He went up to them with his chest thrust out and said:

“A quarrel without a scuffle is like a wedding without fiddlers.” “Your words fit about as well as a walnut on a wall,” they answered. “We are not quarreling, only disputing.” “And what are you disputing about?” he asked. “For the din you are making would wake the dead.” “Look here: we have inherited a pair of rawhide shoes, a cap, and a whip from our father, and we cannot agree which of us should have which.” “And what use are these old things you are disputing over?” “Whoever puts on the shoes can cross the sea as though it were dry land. Whoever puts on the cap cannot be seen even by the devil, though he poke him in the eye. And whoever holds the whip and cracks it at his enemies turns them to stone.” “You are right to dispute, lads, for taken separately these old things are not worth two frozen onions. Here is what occurs to me, if you will listen and let me settle the matter fairly.” “We are listening, we are listening,” the devils answered in one breath. “Tell us how, and we shall see.” “Do you see those three mountains before us? Let each of you go to one of them, and whoever comes back fastest when I give the signal shall have all these things.” “Well spoken, sir! That is what we shall do. Bravo! At last we have found a man to give us justice.” At once the devils took to their heels, each racing toward a different mountain. Meanwhile the young hero put the shoes on his feet, the cap on his head, and took the whip in his hand. When the devils reached the mountaintops and were waiting for his signal, the emperor’s youngest son cracked the whip three times, once toward each devil, and turned them to stone where they stood. Then he went on his way, following the longing in his heart. He had scarcely taken ten steps when he saw a flock of seven doves overhead. He followed them with his eyes until he saw where they alighted. Thither he too directed his steps, toward the goal for which he had labored so long. He crossed seas, brooks, and mighty rivers as though they were dry land, wandered through more countries and wildernesses, and at last reached a great, towering mountain whose summit touched the clouds. This was where he had seen the doves alight. He began to climb it, and from hollow to hollow, from rocky crag to jagged peak, from cliff to cliff, scrambling now along a ridge, now over a mountain crest, he came at last to a cavern. On entering, he stood as though thunderstruck at the sight of palaces so stately and so wonderfully wrought that nothing like them had ever been seen on our earth. There lived his bride, the fairy of fairies. As soon as he saw her walking in the garden with her handmaidens behind her, he knew her. A darling little boy followed the fairy, running and playing among the flowers, and calling to her again and again to show her a butterfly. It seemed the fairy had been with child when she flew away from the feast, and this was their son. The emperor’s youngest son could scarcely contain his joy. He longed to rush forward like a madman, snatch up the little boy, and kiss him. But he checked himself, lest he frighten him. No one could see him, for he wore the cap on his head. Evening was drawing on, and he did not know how to reveal himself. At last, hearing the fairy called to supper, he went too and sat down between her and their little boy. The food was brought. He ate like a starving wolf, for he could not remember when he had last eaten a cooked meal. The fairy wondered how the food could be disappearing so quickly. She ordered more to be brought, but that too vanished in a moment. Meanwhile he lifted his cap a little on the side nearest the child, who caught sight of him and cried at once, “Look, Mama, Papa!” “My darling, your father will not find us until he has accomplished some wondrous deed,” his mother answered. He quickly pulled his cap down over his eyes again and began to eat once more, as though wolves were fighting at his mouth. When he had finished these dishes too, the astonished fairy ordered more to be brought, so that there would be plenty. The emperor’s son showed himself to the little boy once more, his heart leaping with joy because his son had recognized him. Again the child told his mother, and again she scolded him. You see, she could not believe her husband had performed any wondrous deeds that would enable him to reach her. She knew that not even a magic bird could make its way there. The child fell silent, for his father had immediately pulled the cap down over his eyes. He went on eating until all these dishes were finished too. He ate, my friend, and still could not be satisfied. With nothing left to bring to the table, the fairy began to complain that there was no food left even for the handmaidens. Then the child cried out again, “Mama! I tell you, Papa is here!” “But where is he, child? Why do you keep talking nonsense?” “It is not nonsense at all. Look, he is right here beside me. Look, he is taking me in his arms.” The fairy took fright when she heard this. At last, not wishing any harm to come to her, he could no longer keep himself hidden. Taking the cap off his head, he said, “Here I am! You would not believe our son when he told you he had seen me. I did not know what to think when I saw those loathsome skins, and I thought I was doing right by throwing them into the fire to free you all from them.” “Such was the suffering we were fated to endure,” the fairy answered. “But let us forget the past now, and tell me how you managed to come all the way here.” And after he had told her all his adventures and everything he had suffered, they embraced, he kissed the child, and he stayed there with them all. He urged her to return to the world, and she agreed. So they all went back to the emperor, the young hero’s father, and there they held a wedding whose fame spread throughout the world. When that emperor grew old, all the boyars and all the people chose his youngest son to be emperor, for he was a true and stouthearted Romanian, sound of mind and just in judgment. And they lived and ruled so happily that their names were remembered for ever and ever. And I mounted a saddle, and so on.