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The Fate laughed. “Dede-Vsevede indeed! Why, I am his mother, it is the shining sun himself. He is a child at morning time, a grown man at midday, a decrepit old man, looking as if he had lived a hundred years, at eventide. But I will see that you have the three hairs from his head; I am not your godmother for nothing. All the same you must not remain here. My son is a good lad, but when he comes home he is hungry, and would very probably order you to be roasted for his supper. Now I will turn this empty bucket upside down, and you shall hide underneath it.”

Plavacek begged the Fate to obtain from Dede-Vsevede the answers to the three questions he had been asked.

“I will do so certainly, but you must listen to what he says.”

Suddenly a blast of wind howled round the palace, and the Sun entered by a western window. He was an old man with golden hair.

“I smell human flesh,” cried he, “I am sure of it. Mother, you have some one here.”

“Star of day,” she replied, “whom could I have here that you would not see sooner than I? The fact is that in your daily journeys the scent of human flesh is always with you, so when you come home at evening it clings to you still.”

The old man said nothing, and sat down to supper. When he had finished he laid his golden head on the Fate’s lap and went to sleep. Then she pulled out a hair and threw it on the ground. It fell with a metallic sound like the vibration of a guitar string.

“What do you want, mother?” asked he.

“Nothing, my son; I was sleeping, and had a strange dream.”

“What was it, mother?”

“I thought I was in a place where there was a well, and the well was fed from a spring, the water of which cured all diseases. Even the dying were restored to health on drinking that water, and the dead who were sprinkled with it came to life again. For the last twenty years the well has run dry. What must be done to restore the flow of water?”

“That is very simple. A frog has lodged itself in the opening of the spring, this prevents the flow of water. Kill the frog, and the water will return to the well.”

He slept again, and the old woman pulled out another golden hair, and threw it on the ground.

“Mother, what do you want?”

“Nothing, my son, nothing; I was dreaming. In my dream I saw a large town, the name of which I have forgotten. And there grew an apple-tree the fruit of which had the power to make the old young again. A single apple eaten by an old man would restore to him the vigour and freshness of youth. For twenty years this tree has not borne fruit. What can be done to make it fruitful?”

“The means are not difficult. A snake hidden among the roots destroys the sap. Kill the snake, transplant the tree, and the fruit will grow as before.”

He again fell asleep, and the old woman pulled out another golden hair.

“Now look here, mother, why will you not let me sleep?” said the old man, really vexed; and he would have got up.

“Lie down, my darling son, do not disturb yourself. I am sorry I awoke you, but I have had a very strange dream. It seemed that I saw a boatman on the shores of the Black Sea, and he complained that he had been toiling at the ferry for twenty years without any one having come to take his place. For how much longer must this poor old man continue to row?”

“He is a silly fellow. He has but to place his oars in the hands of the first comer and jump ashore. Whoever receives the oars will replace him as ferryman. But leave me in peace now, mother, and do not wake me again. I have to rise very early, and must first dry the eyes of a princess. The poor thing spends all night weeping for her husband who has been sent by the king to get three of my golden hairs.”