Page:Segnius Irritant or Eight Primitive Folk-lore Stories.pdf/65

 so,” broke in the seer; “thou into the whitish one and I into the crimson one.” The king consented even to this. They ran out on to the road to the bridge, and, changing themselves into flames, began to burn one another without mercy. For a long time they burnt one another and nothing came of it. At this moment—would you believe it?—appears an old beggar-man with a long grey beard and a bald head; he has a large wallet at his side, and is bending over a big thick staff. “Old father,” says the whitish flame, “if you will bring water and sprinkle that crimson flame, I will give you a kreutzer.” And the pink flame quickly cries out: “Old father, I will give you a groschen if you will pour the water on to the white flame.” The beggar liked a groschen better than a kreutzer; brought the water and poured it on the white flame. So it was all over with the king. The crimson flame changed itself into a man, caught the Sun-Horse by the curb-chain, seated himself upon it, summoned the servant, and, thanking the beggar for his timely aid, continued his journey.

In the royal palace was deep sorrow over the murdered kings: the whole palace was draped in black cloth, and the people thronged into it from all sides to look at the mutilated bodies of the two elder brothers, just as their horses had brought them home. The old witch, infuriated at the death of her sons-in-law, was brewing vengeance upon their murderer, the seer. Then suddenly she seats herself upon a rake-handle, catches up her three girls under the armpits, and hie! away with them into the air.

The seer and his servant had already traversed a good part of the road, for they had put their best foot forward; and now they were going among nothing but barren mountains and smooth-shorn wildernesses. Here a terrible hunger seized upon the servant, and to appease it there were not even any wild berries anywhere. Hereupon they all at once come to an apple-tree. Apples hung upon it; ’twas well the boughs were not broken; they smelt beautifully, they glowed a delicious russet red, and quite invited you to eat. “Praised be God!” cries out the servant, in ecstacies; “now I shall make a dainty feast off these apples.” And he was just running to the apple-tree. “Don’t attempt to pluck of them,” shouted the seer to him; “stay, I will gather them myself for thee.” And instead of gathering an apple, he drew his sword and thrust it forcibly into the apple-tree. Crimson blood spouted far out of it. “There, look! thou seest; thou wouldst have taken corruption if thou hadst eaten