The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [282]
‘The smith wanted to go down into the vault: but because the time had passed, the stone closed again, so that the stream flowed over it. From that day on, my smith couldn’t settle down at all. His work flagged. Wherever he looked, he saw nothing but the glassy stream and the young lady within it, shedding tears. Soon he pined away, for something was continually gripping his heart in burning tongs. It bemused him. When at last he could bear his longing no more, he went to a woman who knew about herbs, gave her a silver rouble and asked for help.
“‘Well now,” said the woman, “there’s nothing else for it, but you must wait for St John’s Eve, and when the stone moves again, you must climb into the pit. If you take the pin from her head, she will wake, you will marry her, and you’ll be a great gentleman such as the world has never seen. But don’t forget me then, that I advised you well. And remember this: when the monsters surround you and you take fright, cross yourself at once and in God’s name … It’s all a question of your not taking fright; evil cannot fasten on a man who’s not afraid.”
“‘And tell me,” said the smith, “how does it show that a man is seized with fright? …”
“‘Like that, are you?” said the woman. “Well, off with you to the pit, and when you return, remember me.”
‘The smith went to the stream every day for two months, and didn’t stir from it for a week before St John’s Eve. Then the time came. At midday the stone moved, and my smith jumped into the pit with his axe in hand. My grandfather used to say that what happened to him then would make anyone’s hair stand on end. Monsters surrounded him, and another man would have died just for looking at them. There were bats big as dogs, which flapped their great wings at him. Then a toad big as a rock stood in his path, then a snake caught him by the legs, and when the smith hit it, the snake started weeping like a human being. There were wolves so fierce that when foam dropped from their muzzles, it burst into flames and holes burned in the rocks.
‘All these monsters jumped on him, seized him by the jacket and sleeves, but not one dared harm him. For they saw that the smith was not afraid, and evil disappears like a shadow before a man who isn’t afeard. “Smith, you will perish here!” cried the monsters, but he only gripped his axe and spoke to them — excuse me, but in such a way as would be shameful to repeat to a lady and gentleman.
‘At last my smith reached the golden bed to which the monsters had no access, but only stood all around gnashing their teeth. At once he saw the golden pin in the young lady’s temple, seized it and pulled it half-way out. The blood spurted … And the young lady seized his coat in her hand and cried out: “Why are you hurting me?”
‘Not until now did the smith take fright. He shuddered and let his hands drop. This was just what the monsters wanted. The one with the biggest muzzle jumped at the smith and shook him so that blood spurted out through the opening and stained the rocks, which you saw with your own eyes. But at the same time, the smith broke off a tooth big as a man’s fist, which my grandfather found in the stream, later on.
‘Then the stone closed over the window into the pit, and no one has been able to find it since. The stream dried, and the young lady was left down there, half-awakened. She cries so loudly that sometimes shepherds in the fields hear her, and she will weep for ever and ever.’
Węgiełek ceased. Izabela lowered her head and traced some marks on the gravel with the tip of her parasol. Wokulski dared not look at her. After a long silence he said to Węgiełek: ‘That was an interesting story … But tell me, now — how will you set about engraving the stone?’
‘I don’t know what it is I’m to engrave, sir.’
‘To be sure …’
Wokulski brought out notebook and pencil, and when he had written, gave it to the young man: ‘Only four lines, sir?’ Węgiełek said, ‘it will be ready in three days. On that stone the letters could surely be an inch high. Ah,