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“Why, bábushka,” the stranger asked, “is there such a throng in the city, why are rooms so dear, and why are the people all mourning and melancholy?”

“Well, our king has just died, and the boyárs have sent the town-crier out to announce that old and young are to assemble, and each of them is to have a candle, and with the candles they are to go into the cathedral, and whosesoever’s candle lights of itself is to be king.”

So in the morning the boy got up, washed, prayed to God, said the grace for the bread and salt and the soft bed which his hostess had given him, and went into the cathedral. When he got there, if you had been there three years you could not have counted all those people. And he took a candle in his hand, and it lit up at once. So they all burst upon him and began to blow out his candle, to damp it, but the flame lit all the brighter. There was no help for it: they acknowledged him as their king, and dressed him in golden apparel and led him to the palace.

But the younger brother, who had turned to the left, heard that there was a fair princess in a certain kingdom who was indescribably lovely. But she was very grudging, and she announced in all countries that she would only marry the man who could feed her army for three whole years; yet every one had to try his luck. So the boy went there, and he went on his way, went on the broad road. And he spat into his little bag, and spat it full of pure gold. Well, it may be long, it may be short, it may be near, it may be far, but he at last reached the fair princess, and he said he would accomplish her task. He had no need to ask for gold, he simply had to spit and there it was. For three years he maintained the princess’s army, gave it food and drink and dress.