Morozko (Father Frost)
Once there lived an old man and an old woman. They had three daughters. The old woman did not love the eldest, who was her stepdaughter. She often scolded her,…
Once there lived an old man and an old woman. They had three daughters. The old woman did not love the eldest, who was her stepdaughter. She often scolded her, woke her early and piled all the work upon her. The girl fed and watered the livestock, carried firewood and water into the house, heated the stove, made clothes, swept the floor and put everything in order before daylight. Even then the old woman was dissatisfied and grumbled at Marfusha:
“What a lazybones! What a sloven! The broom is out of place, it isn’t standing properly, and the house is dirty!”
The girl said nothing and wept. She did everything she could to please her stepmother and serve her daughters, but the sisters followed their mother’s example. They mistreated Marfusha in every way, quarrelled with her and made her cry. That was what they enjoyed! They themselves rose late, washed with water already brought for them, dried themselves on a clean towel and only sat down to work after dinner. The girls grew and grew until they were old enough to marry. A tale is soon told, but deeds take longer. The old man felt sorry for his eldest daughter. He loved her because she was obedient and hardworking, never stubborn, did whatever she was told and never talked back. But he did not know how to help her. He was feeble, the old woman was a scold, and her daughters were lazy and wilful.
The old couple began thinking things over: the old man wondered how to settle his daughters in life, and the old woman how to get the eldest off her hands. One day she said to her husband:
“Well, old man, let’s marry Marfusha off.”
“Very well,” said the old man, and shuffled over to the stove. The old woman called after him:
“Get up early tomorrow, harness the mare to the wood sledge and set off with Marfutka. And you, Marfutka, pack your belongings in a little box and put on a clean white shirt. Tomorrow you’re going visiting!”
Kind Marfusha was delighted at the prospect of being taken visiting and slept sweetly all night. Early in the morning she rose, washed, prayed to God, gathered her things and packed them neatly. She dressed herself and looked every inch a bride. But it was winter, and a fierce, cracking frost gripped the land.
Before dawn the old man harnessed the mare to the wood sledge and brought it to the porch. Then he came inside, sat on the sleeping bench and said:
“Well, everything’s ready!”
“Sit down at the table and stuff yourselves!” said the old woman.
The old man sat down and seated his daughter beside him. The bread basket stood on the table. He took out a whole loaf and cut bread for himself and his daughter. Meanwhile the old woman brought a dish of old cabbage soup and said:
“Now, my little dove, eat and be off! I’ve seen quite enough of you. Old man, take Marfutka to her bridegroom. Mind you, you old dotard, go straight along the road, then turn right into the pinewood. You know the great pine on the little hill: go straight there and give Marfutka to Morozko in marriage.”
The old man’s eyes widened, his mouth fell open and he stopped eating his soup. The girl began to wail.
“What are you snivelling for? Your bridegroom is handsome and rich! Just look at all he owns: firs, pines and birches clothed in down! What an enviable life, and he’s a mighty fellow himself!”
Without a word, the old man loaded her belongings, told his daughter to put on a sheepskin coat and set off. Whether the journey was long or short, I cannot say: a tale is soon told, but deeds take longer. At last he reached the pinewood, turned off the road and went across the crusted snow. Deep in the forest he stopped, told his daughter to get down, set the little box beneath a huge pine and said:
“Sit here and wait for your bridegroom. Mind you welcome him kindly.”
Then he turned the horse around and went home.
The girl sat shivering, chilled to the bone. She wanted to wail, but had no strength; only her teeth chattered. Suddenly she heard Morozko crackling in a nearby fir tree, leaping from tree to tree with cracks and snaps. He reached the pine beneath which she sat and called down to her:
“Are you warm, maiden?”
“Warm, warm, dear Father Frost!”
Morozko came lower, crackling and snapping more loudly. Frost asked the maiden:
“Are you warm, maiden? Are you warm, fair one?”
The girl could scarcely draw breath, but still answered:
“Warm, dear Frost! Warm, Father!”
Frost crackled louder and snapped harder, then said to the maiden:
“Are you warm, maiden? Are you warm, fair one? Are you warm, my darling?”
The girl was growing stiff with cold and whispered almost inaudibly:
“Oh, I’m warm, dear, kind Frost!”
Then Morozko took pity on her, wrapped her in fur coats and warmed her with blankets.
The next morning the old woman said to her husband:
“Go, you old dotard, and wake the newlyweds!”
The old man harnessed the horse and set off. When he reached his daughter, he found her alive, wearing a fine fur coat and an expensive veil, with a box full of rich gifts. Without saying a word, he loaded everything onto the sledge, sat beside his daughter and drove home. When they arrived, the girl threw herself at her stepmother’s feet. The old woman was astonished to see her alive, with a new fur coat and a box of linen.
“You bitch! You won’t fool me.”
A little later the old woman said to her husband:
“Take my daughters to that bridegroom too. He’ll give them even finer gifts!”
Deeds take time, though a tale is soon told. Early one morning the old woman fed her children, dressed them properly for a wedding and sent them off. The old man followed the same road and left the girls beneath the pine. They sat there laughing:
“What has Mother thought up now, marrying us both off at once? Aren’t there any lads in our village? For all we know, some devil will turn up, and who knows what sort!”
The girls wore sheepskin coats, but now they began to feel cold.
“Parakha, this frost is biting right through me. If our destined bridegroom doesn’t come, we’ll freeze to death here.”
“Stop talking nonsense, Mashka! Bridegrooms don’t come so early. Is it even noon yet?”
“But Parakha, if only one comes, which of us will he take?”
“You, perhaps, you great fool?”
“Oh yes, as if he’d take you!”
“Of course he’ll take me.”
“You! Stop your mocking and lying!”
Morozko chilled the girls’ hands. They tucked them inside their coats and went on with their quarrel.
“You sleepy-faced creature, you nasty shrew, you ugly snout! You can’t spin, and you know nothing at all about working the threads!”
“Oh, you braggart! What do you know? Nothing but going to gatherings and making eyes! We’ll see which of us he takes first!”
The girls chattered on like this and grew terribly cold. Suddenly they both said at once:
“Where the devil is he? What’s keeping him so long? Look, you’ve turned blue!”
In the distance Morozko began crackling, leaping from fir to fir with cracks and snaps. The girls thought they heard someone driving towards them.
“Listen, Parakha! He’s coming now, with a little bell!”
“Get away, you bitch! I can’t hear anything. This frost is tearing at me.”
“And you still think you’re going to get married!”
They began blowing on their fingers. Morozko drew nearer and nearer until he reached the pine above them. He said to the girls:
“Are you warm, maidens? Are you warm, fair ones? Are you warm, my little doves?”
“Oh, Morozko, it’s bitterly cold! We’re frozen. We’re waiting for our bridegroom, but the wretch has vanished.”
Morozko came lower, crackling louder and snapping more often.
“Are you warm, maidens? Are you warm, fair ones?”
“Go to the devil! Are you blind? Can’t you see our hands and feet are frozen?”
Morozko came lower still, struck fiercely and said:
“Are you warm, maidens?”
“Away with you to all the devils in the deep pool! Begone, you accursed creature!” And the girls froze stiff.
In the morning the old woman said to her husband:
“Harness up the sledge, old man. Put in an armful of hay and take a fur blanket. The girls must be a little chilly; there’s a terrible frost outside! And be quick about it, you old dotard!”
The old man had no time even for a bite to eat before he was outside and on the road. He came to fetch the girls and found them dead. He put his children into the sledge, wrapped them in the blanket and covered them with matting. Seeing him from afar, the old woman ran to meet him and asked:
“Where are the children?”
“In the sledge.”
The old woman pulled back the matting, took off the blanket and found her children dead.
Then she burst out like a thunderstorm and berated the old man:
“What have you done, you old dog? You’ve killed my daughters, my own dear children, my precious little seeds, my sweet red berries! I’ll beat you to death with the pot fork! I’ll finish you off with the poker!”
“Enough, you old wretch! You were greedy for riches, and your children were stubborn. How am I to blame? It was what you wanted.”
The old woman raged and scolded, but later made peace with her stepdaughter. They went on living and prospering, leaving their troubles behind. A neighbour came to court Marfusha, they celebrated a wedding, and she lived happily. The old man frightened his grandchildren with tales of Morozko and would not let them be stubborn. I was at the wedding, drinking mead and beer. It ran down my whiskers, but never reached my mouth.
A stepmother had a stepdaughter and a daughter of her own. Whatever her own daughter did, she was patted on the head and praised:
“Clever girl!”
But however hard the stepdaughter tried to please, nothing she did was right: everything was wrong, everything was bad. Yet truth be told, the girl was worth her weight in gold. In kind hands she would have lived in ease and plenty, but with her stepmother she washed her face in tears every day. What could she do? The wind may roar and then fall silent, but once an old woman gets going, she will not stop soon. She keeps thinking up complaints and wagging her tongue. At last the stepmother decided to drive her stepdaughter out of the house.
“Take her away, old man, take her wherever you please, so my eyes never see her and my ears never hear of her! But don’t take her to relatives in a warm house. Take her into the open field, into the cracking frost!”
The old man grieved and wept, but he put his daughter in the sledge. He wanted to cover her with a horse blanket, yet was afraid even to do that. He drove the homeless girl into the open field, dumped her on a snowdrift, made the sign of the cross over her and hurried home so he would not see his daughter die.
The poor girl remained there, trembling and quietly saying her prayers. Along came Frost, hopping and leaping, looking at the lovely maiden:
“Maiden, maiden, I am Frost Red Nose!”
“Welcome, Frost. God must have sent you for my sinful soul.”
Frost had meant to strike her and freeze her, but he liked her wise words and felt sorry for her. He threw her a fur coat. She put it on, tucked her feet beneath her and sat there. Again Frost Red Nose came hopping and leaping, looking at the lovely maiden:
“Maiden, maiden, I am Frost Red Nose!”
“Welcome, Frost. God must have sent you for my sinful soul.”
Frost had not come for her soul at all. He brought the lovely maiden a tall, heavy chest full of all kinds of dowry goods. She sat on the chest in her fur coat, so cheerful and so pretty! Again Frost Red Nose came hopping and leaping, looking at the lovely maiden. She greeted him kindly, and he gave her a dress embroidered with silver and gold. She put it on and looked so beautiful and splendidly dressed! There she sat, singing little songs.
Meanwhile her stepmother was holding a memorial meal for her and had baked pancakes.
“Go, husband, and take your daughter to be buried.”
The old man set off. The little dog beneath the table barked:
“Yap, yap! The old man’s daughter is coming home in gold and silver, but no suitors will take the old woman’s daughter!”
“Be quiet, you fool! Here’s a pancake. Say: suitors will take the old woman’s daughter, but they’ll bring back only the old man’s daughter’s bones!”
The little dog ate the pancake and began again:
“Yap, yap! The old man’s daughter is coming home in gold and silver, but no suitors will take the old woman’s daughter!”
The old woman gave her pancakes and beat her, but the dog kept saying the same thing:
“The old man’s daughter is coming home in gold and silver, but no suitors will take the old woman’s daughter!”
The gates creaked, the doors swung open, and in came a tall, heavy chest. The stepdaughter followed, shining like a grand lady! Her stepmother looked and flung out her arms.
“Old man, old man, harness the other horses and take my daughter there at once! Leave her in the same field, in the very same place.”
The old man drove her to the same field and left her in the same place. Frost Red Nose came, looked at his visitor, hopped and leapt, but heard no kind words. He grew angry, struck her and killed her.
“Old man, go and fetch my daughter! Harness the swift horses. Don’t overturn the sledge, and don’t drop the chest!”
But the little dog beneath the table barked:
“Yap, yap! Suitors will take the old man’s daughter, but the old woman’s daughter’s bones are coming home in a sack!”
“Don’t lie! Here’s a pie. Say: the old woman’s daughter is coming home in gold and silver!”
The gates opened, and the old woman ran out to meet her daughter, but embraced a cold body instead. She wept and wailed, but it was too late!