The bear got back home and found his wife baking pancakes. ‘Oh, what a splendid mistress I have now! What have you been doing with yourself?’
‘Oh, this and that. You can see: I’ve been everywhere and I’ve found everything I need.’
‘You didn’t go into the third barn, did you?’
‘No, I don’t know what you’ve got there.’
‘Give me something to eat.’
‘First take this basket of pancakes. Our mother’s died and we must remember her. Take this basket and throw it down in the garden.’
‘All right.’
The girl put her sister into the basket and covered her up with pancakes and little pies. ‘So, off you go. The basket’s full. But it’s a gift for the wake – mind don’t you go eating any of it yourself. I’m climbing up onto the roof to keep an eye on you better!’
The bear slung the basket onto his back, but it was heavy and he felt tired. ‘A little pastry would be tasty,’ he said aloud, meaning to sit down for a while on a tree stump. ‘Perhaps I’ll try one little pie!’
1
But the sister inside the basket said, ‘Get up, get up, you lazy bear! Don’t you dare touch the food you bear!’
‘Sharp eyes, sharp eyes, I’ll leave the pies,’ said the bear. He had gone a long way and he was surprised that his wife could still see him.
In the end the bear got to the edge of the garden and threw down the basket of pies beside one of the outbuildings. The dogs leaped out at the bear. The bear ran into the forest, and the girl jumped out of the basket and ran back into her home.
The bear got back home. There was his wife – still hard at work. ‘My Papa’s died,’ she said. ‘Now we have to remember him, too.’
‘All right. Just say when you’re ready – and I’ll take the basket.’
The girl baked some more pancakes. ‘All right, Mikhail Mikhailovich. Here’s the basket. But don’t you dare touch the food you bear, don’t you dare try a single pie. I’m climbing up onto the roof – to keep an eye on you better!’
The bear slung the basket onto his back, but it was heavy and he felt tired. ‘A little pastry would be tasty,’ he said, meaning to sit down on a tree stump. ‘Perhaps I’ll try one little pie!’
But the sister inside the basket said, ‘Get up, get up, you lazy bear! Don’t you dare touch the food you bear!’
‘Sharp eyes, sharp eyes, I’ll leave the pies,’ said the bear. The bear had gone a long way and he was surprised that his wife could still see him.
In the end the bear got to the edge of the garden and threw down the basket beside one of the outbuildings. Bits of pancake and pie flew in every direction. The girl leaped out of the basket and the dogs leaped out at the bear.
On the third day the girl said to the bear, ‘Now my brother’s died. We have to remember him.’
‘All right. Bake the pancakes and pies and I’ll take the basket.’
Now in their yard they had a learned cock. The girl said to this cock, ‘Once I’m in the basket you must cover me up with the pancakes and pies. And in return I’ll give you some grain.’ First, though, she took a pestle, dressed it in her own clothes and put it on top of the roof. Then she got into the basket and the cock covered her up with a layer of pancakes and pies. (And she’d taken some of the gold.)
The bear took the basket and set off. He walked a long way and he began to feel tired. ‘A little pastry would be tasty,’ he said. ‘Let me just try one little pie!’
But the girl said, ‘Lazy bear, lazy bear! Don’t you dare touch the food you bear.’
‘Sharp eyes, sharp eyes!’ said the bear. ‘I’ll leave the pies.’
In the end the bear got to the edge of the garden and threw down the basket beside one of the outbuildings. The dogs leaped out after him. He ran all the way to his hut. And there, up on the roof, was his wife! ‘What are you doing, up there so high? I haven’t touched a single pie!’ She went on standing there; she didn’t say a word. ‘Get down off the roof, I’m telling you. Get down or I’ll beat you!’ Still not a word. The bear got very angry. He took a big pole and poked it at her. The pestle began to roll – bump, bump, bump – down off the roof. The bear tried to stop it. He tried to stand his wife up again. ‘Careful, my dear! You’ll be smashed to pieces!’ But the mortar fell down from the roof, too – and went smack into the bear’s snout. That was the end of the bear, and it’s the end of this story, too.
(1901–59)
Karnaukhova was born in Kiev; her father was a railwayman, her mother had worked as a journalist. In Petrograd after the Revolution, Karnaukhova worked briefly as a literary translator. In 1921 she moved to Moscow, where she studied in the Institute of the Word, a school for writers set up under the auspices of the Commissariat of Enlightenment. Among the teachers at this institute were Olga Ozarovskaya and the twin brothers Yury and Boris Sokolov, who had published an important collection of folktales and songs in 1915. In the summer of 1923, Karnaukhova was one of the many guests of the legendarily hospitable poet Maksimilian Voloshin, at his home in the village of Koktebel in the Crimea; there Karnaukhova often narrated folktales. Between 1926 and 1932 she took part in several major expeditions to the north of European Russia; the tales she collected were published in 1934 with an introduction by Yury Sokolov. This collection stands out both for the interest of the tales themselves and for the vividness with which Karnaukhova describes her informants.
During the second half of her life, Karnaukhova worked as a children’s writer. Some of her work was original, while some drew on themes from folklore.
Once there was a man who had married for a second time. He had a daughter, and his wife had a daughter, too. The wife took against her husband’s daughter. She nagged and nagged; she was pestering the life out of her. And she gave her husband a hard time, too.
‘Take that girl away into the forest,’ she said. ‘Let there be neither sight nor sound of her in this hut.’
The woman packed a basket for her stepdaughter. It was full of all kinds of horrible things – dirt and sand instead of food and drink. And then the old man had to take his daughter to a hut in the forest. He took her there in a sleigh and left her there on her own. The girl opened the basket and felt surprised by her stepmother’s kindness. There in the basket were all kinds of good things: butter and buckwheat and cheesecakes. (The dirt and sand had been turned into good food.) The girl lit the stove and began to make herself some buckwheat porridge. Then a little mouse popped out of a hole and said, ‘Give me a little porridge, girl!’
The girl gave the little mouse some porridge. The mouse ate, wiped her face with her tail and said, ‘Thank you, my beauty. And now I shall do you a good turn. Soon a bear will come to this hut and play blindman’s bluff with you. Don’t be afraid, but just hide under the floor. I’ll pretend to be you.’
The girl agreed. Evening drew in. The bear came in and said, ‘Greetings, my beauty! Let’s play blindman’s bluff!’
The girl blindfolded the bear and hid beneath the floor. And the little mouse began scampering about, knocking against the floorboards. The bear chased after her. He didn’t give up easily.
‘You’re very smart,’ he said in the end. ‘You’re too quick for me. I’ve had enough.’
The girl came up from under the floor and removed the bear’s blindfold. The bear gave her a whole basket of silver. And off he went – back into the forest. In the morning Masha made some more porridge, ate some herself and gave some to the little mouse. The mouse said, ‘This time the bear will go under the floor. You must sit on top of the stove. I’ll do the same as I did yesterday.’
In the evening the bear came in.
‘Greetings, my beauty! Let’s play blindman’s bluff! If I catch you, I’ll eat you. If I don’t catch you, I’ll give you some gold.’
The girl blindfolded the bear and then sat on top of the stove. And the little mouse began scampering about, knocking against the floor. The bear crept under the floor. He didn’t give up easily.
‘You’re very cunning,’ he said in the end. ‘I’ve had enough, my beauty. You’ve worn me out.’
The girl removed the bear’s blindfold. The bear piled up a great heap of gold for her in one corner of the hut.
In the morning Masha made some more porridge, ate some herself and gave some to the little mouse. The mouse said, ‘Today the bear will climb up onto the stove. I’ll pin you up on the wall. And then I’ll pretend to be you.’
In the evening the bear came in.
‘Greetings, my clever one! Let’s play blindman’s bluff! If I catch you, I’ll eat you. If I don’t catch you, I’ll reward you well.’
The girl blindfolded the bear. The little mouse pinned her up on the wall and began to play. The little mouse climbed up onto the bench – and the bear climbed up onto the bench, too. The little mouse hid in a corner – and the bear was right there on her heels. Then the bear climbed up onto the stove to rest.
‘You’re very cunning,’ he said. ‘I’ve had enough, my beauty. This time you really have worn me out.’
The girl removed the bear’s blindfold. The bear gave her some perfect pearls.
Meanwhile the stepmother was telling her old man what to do:
‘Go on then. Go into the forest and bring back your daughter’s braids!’
The old man drove off into the forest. He found his daughter alive – and the hut full of all kinds of good things! He packed them all onto the sleigh.
The stepmother was baking pancakes for the girl’s wake. She could hear the knocking and rattling of the old man’s sleigh. And then the dog started barking:
‘Woof, woof, woof! The old man’s daughter’s all clothed in gold! The woman’s daughter’s dressed all in dirt!’
And there was the old man’s daughter with all her silver and gold and her perfect pearls. The stepmother was furious.
‘Take my own daughter to that hut!’ she yelled.
She packed her daughter a basket full of cheesecakes and butter. The old man took her to the hut and left her there on her own. The girl opened her basket. There was nothing in it but dirt and sand. The girl started trying to make porridge. After a while she had a little taste. Out jumped the little mouse.
‘Give me some porridge, girl!’
The girl slapped the little mouse on the forehead. The little mouse ran back to her hole. Along came the bear.
‘Greetings, girl! Let’s play blindman’s bluff! If I catch you, I’ll eat you. If I don’t catch you, I’ll reward you well.’
The girl blindfolded the bear – and off she ran. She ran into a corner – and the bear ran into the corner too. She jumped onto the bench – and the bear jumped onto the bench too. After a while the bear caught her, skinned her, hung her skin up on a rail and ate up everything else. He even gnawed at her bones.
The old man came to fetch the girl – and all he could do was put her bones in a sack.
The girl’s mother was baking pastries stuffed with fish. She was preparing a festive meal, but then the dog started barking:
‘Woof, woof, woof! The old man’s daughter’s all clothed in gold! The woman’s daughter’s dressed all in dirt!’
The woman rushed outside. She saw the bones and howled. And that’s the end of the story.
Once upon a time there was a widower who had taken a second wife. He had a daughter of his own, and his wife had a daughter, too. Well, everyone knows what it’s like to live with a stepmother. Do too much – you get beaten. Do too little – you get beaten. Do things just right – and you still get beaten. Well, the unkind woman said to her husband, ‘Take that daughter of yours away into the forest. Yes – into the forest and into the frost.’
The man wasn’t very happy about this, but what could he do? He took his daughter off into the forest. He took her into the forest, left her beneath a bush and went back home. Somewhere up above her the girl could hear Jack Frost. He was creaking and cracking among the twigs and branches. The girl said to him, ‘Please, Jack Frost! Don’t creak and don’t crack so, Jack Frost! I’ve no belt on my waist, no shoes on my feet and no shirt on my back, O Jack Frost.’
Jack Frost began to feel sorry for her. He turned milder. Once again the girl said, ‘Please, Jack Frost! Don’t creak and don’t crack so, Jack Frost! I’ve no belt on my waist, no shoes on my feet and no shirt on my back, O Jack Frost.’
Jack Frost turned milder still. The girl repeated, ‘Please, Jack Frost! Don’t creak and don’t crack so, Jack Frost! I’ve no belt on my waist, no shoes on my feet and no shirt on my back, O Jack Frost.’
At that, Jack Frost turned as mild as mild can be. He even threw the girl a chest full of fine, warm clothes: a shirt, a marten-fur coat, a silk shawl. She put on all he had given her, then sat there in the warm.
In the morning the woman said to her husband, ‘Well, now you must go and bring back your daughter’s bones.’
The man went off into the forest and found his daughter alive. She was sitting on the ground, surrounded by chests and trunks. He brought her back home, along with everything she’d been given. The stepmother was furious. ‘My own daughter must go and get a rich dowry, too!’ she yelled. And she told her husband to take her daughter into the forest.
The man left the girl beneath the same bush in the forest. Along came Jack Frost. The girl said, ‘Stop that racket, Jack Frost! I’ve no belt on my waist, no shoes on my feet and no shirt on my back, Jack Frost.’ (In fact her mother had given her some warm felt boots and wrapped her up tight in a fur coat and a shawl.) This angered Jack Frost. He began to creak and crack and snap more fiercely than ever. The girl said, ‘Stop that, Jack Frost! Stop that racket, Jack Frost! I’ve no belt on my waist, no shoes on my feet and no shirt on my back, Jack Frost.’
Jack Frost grew still more angry. He turned as fierce as fierce can be. And the girl froze to death.
In the morning the woman said to her husband, ‘Well, now you must go and fetch my daughter, along with all her chests and trunks full of fine clothes.’
The man set off. He found the dead girl. She couldn’t speak, but her bones were still cracking and snapping.
Twelve young girls went to bathe in the lake. Eleven laid their smocks together; the twelfth flung her smock to one side. Then they all bathed. Eleven came out, put their smocks on and left. The twelfth found a huge snake on her smock.