The Chattering Old Woman

Day and night the old woman grumbled. How did her tongue never grow sore? And it was always about her stepdaughter: neither clever nor graceful! Whether the…

Day and night the old woman grumbled. How did her tongue never grow sore? And it was always about her stepdaughter: neither clever nor graceful! Whether the girl went out or came in, stood up or sat down, everything she did was wrong. From morning till evening the old woman went on like a set of gusli that had been wound up. Her husband was sick of it, everyone was sick of it: you could almost run out of the house to get away! The old man harnessed the horse, planning to take millet to town, and the old woman shouted:

“Take your daughter too! Leave her in the dark forest or out on the road, anywhere, so long as she’s off my hands!”

The old man took her with him. The road was long and difficult, all forest and marsh. Where could he leave the girl? Then he saw a little hut on chicken legs, propped up by a pie and roofed with a pancake, turning round and round.

“It would be best to leave my daughter in the hut,” he thought. He helped her down, gave her millet for porridge, struck the horse and drove out of sight.

The girl was left alone. She pounded the millet and cooked plenty of porridge, but there was no one to eat it. A long, frightening night came. Lie asleep too long and your sides would ache; stare into the dark and you would wear out your eyes. There was no one to say a word to, and she was lonely and afraid. She stood on the threshold, opened the door towards the forest and called:

“Whoever is in the forest, whoever is in the dark, come and be my guest!”

A leshy answered. He took the form of a young man, a merchant from Novgorod, came running and brought a present. One day he would come for a chat, the next he would bring a gift. He made a habit of visiting and brought so much that there was nowhere to put it all!

Meanwhile, the chattering old woman grew bored without her stepdaughter. The house was quiet, she felt sick at heart and her tongue had dried up.

“Go and fetch your daughter, husband! Bring her up from the bottom of the sea, snatch her out of the fire! I’m old and frail, and there’s no one to look after me.”

Her husband obeyed. The stepdaughter came home, opened her chest and hung her fine belongings on a line stretching from the house to the gate. The old woman had opened her mouth, ready to give her the usual welcome, but when she saw all that wealth she pursed her lips, seated her guest beneath the icons and began to address her with great respect: “What would you like, my lady?”