The Little Piece of Lime

Once upon a time, there lived an old man and an old woman. They had no children, and this grieved them deeply. One day, the old woman said to the old man:

"When winter comes, let's make ourselves a girl out of snow. I can't bear to live without children any longer."

"It's not hard to make one," agreed the old man. "But the trouble is, when spring comes, she'll melt."

"Then take an adze and carve a girl out of wood."

"It can be done," replied the old man. "But if we sit her by the fire and a spark falls on her, she'll burn up in an instant."

Hearing these words, the old woman grew sorrowful, and tears streamed from her eyes.

"Don't cry," the old man comforted her. "I'm already burning lime; tomorrow I'll slake it, and I'll make you a daughter out of lime."

The old woman was overjoyed and went to bed content. As she slept, she heard a voice in her dream:

"Your daughter will be fair and beautiful, but if you want her to remain alive, you must take her outside the gates when she begins to speak and give her to the first person who passes by. And you must tell her that when she comes of age, she must not open her mouth before her betrothed until he guesses what she is made of. If she utters even a single word to him, she will crumble into lime dust."

The next day, the old man set to work. He slaked the lime in a pit and fashioned a girl whiter than snow. As soon as the old man drew a stick under her nose to make a mouth, the girl spoke:

"Good morning, father! How are you, mother?"

The old couple was heartbroken to part with their fair-faced daughter so soon, but they had no choice—they could not disobey the voice the old woman had heard in her dream. They went out to the road and waited to see who would pass by first, so they could give Lime Girl to them. And what did they see? A nag plodding along the road. They were astonished but nonetheless opened the gates, led the nag into their yard, combed its mane, bridled it, saddled it with a soft saddle, and seated Lime Girl upon it.

Before saying goodbye to their daughter, the old couple instructed her not to utter a word to her betrothed until he said, "You are made of lime." Now, you should know, dear friends, that the old nag was from the stables of the local governor. When the horse was young and spirited, it was fed rice and its mane was combed with a golden comb. But when it grew old and its legs began to falter, the governor's servants led the poor creature into the forest and left it to be torn apart by wild beasts. However, the horse, accustomed to living among people, found its way out of the forest and wandered back to town along the road that passed by the old couple's house.

Feeling the rider on its back, the horse perked up and trotted straight to the governor's house. The governor's son was sitting by the window at the time and was delighted to see the white girl on the back of their old horse.

"Who are you, and where do you come from?" he asked Lime Girl.

She remained silent.

"Why won't you answer me? Are you mute?"

Again, Lime Girl said nothing. The governor's son helped her dismount, took her by the hand, and led her into the house to his parents:

"Look at the beautiful girl our old horse has brought me."

The governor and his wife marveled at the girl's beauty and began questioning her about why she was so white. But Lime Girl did not open her mouth.

The next day, the governor's son went hunting but returned empty-handed, for the image of the white girl haunted him.

He went to his mother and said:

"Mother, I will return the ring of the tsar's daughter."

"How can that be? She is your betrothed."

"I won't marry her. I'll marry the girl the old horse brought yesterday."

"What are you saying!" exclaimed his mother. "Can't you see that the girl is mute?"

"So what? I'll marry her, and that's that."

"Do as you please," said his mother.

The governor's son returned the ring to the tsar's daughter and became engaged to Lime Girl. It never occurred to him to tell her that she was made of lime, and so the girl remained silent. For three whole months, the governor's son courted his betrothed, dressed her in gold and brocade, took her for rides in a gilded carriage, and begged her to say even a single word, but Lime Girl did not part her lips.

"She really is mute," the governor's son said to himself and decided to abandon her.

He locked Lime Girl in a small room in the attic and sent for the tsar's daughter. Upon settling in the governor's house, the tsar's daughter first asked where the white girl was. The servants told her that the girl was locked in the attic room.

"Go and look through the keyhole to see what she's doing," the tsar's daughter ordered.

The servants crept quietly to the door, peeked through the keyhole, and saw Lime Girl sitting on a chair by the window, with a yellow silk shirt on her lap.

"This shirt is for my betrothed, the governor's son," the girl suddenly said. "Come, thread, go through the needle!"

At that, the needle, which was stuck in a pincushion, jumped onto the table, hopped over to the golden thread, offered its eye, and the thread went through. The girl took the needle and began sewing buttons onto the sleeves, but suddenly she pricked her thumb. She threw the needle to the floor and angrily cried:

"Ow, why did you prick me, nasty needle?"

When the pain subsided, the white girl calmed down and said:

"Forgive me, little needle. Come back to me, let's work together."

But the needle, it seemed, was deeply offended and refused to return. Enraged, the girl grabbed a pair of scissors, cut off her nose, and commanded it:

"Go and bring me that willful thing!"

The severed nose leaped onto the table, then onto the floor, grabbed the needle, and handed it to the white girl. She took the needle with her left hand and placed her nose back in its rightful place with her right.

The tsar's daughter's servants raced down the stairs, nearly breaking their legs. They rushed to their mistress and breathlessly recounted what they had seen and heard.

"That's no great feat," said the tsar's daughter. "I can do that too. Bring me some linen for a shirt, a needle, golden thread, and scissors."

When everything was brought, she said to the needle:

"I command you, needle, to thread the golden thread. Go on!"

But the needle did not move. The tsar's daughter stamped her foot:

"Do you know who I am? If you don't obey me this instant, I'll summon the blacksmith, and he'll flatten you with a hammer on the anvil!"
But the needle still wouldn’t budge.

Then the tsar’s daughter grabbed it, threw it on the floor, and shouted:

“You nasty, rusty needle, come to me right now!”

The needle didn’t obey her this time either.

Enraged, the tsar’s daughter grabbed a pair of scissors, cut off her own nose, and howled:

“Ouch, ouch, ouch, it hurts so much! Hey, nose, quickly bring me the needle, or I’ll die from the pain!”

But the nose just fell to the floor and stayed there. The tsar’s daughter picked it up herself, put it back in place, and pressed it firmly, but as soon as she let go, the nose fell to the floor again.

“Oh dear, what am I to do now?” the tsar’s daughter moaned and climbed into bed, pulling the blanket over herself.

When the voevodich returned home and saw that his wife had no nose, he became furious:

“I can’t live with a noseless wife! Send her back and bring me another princess. At least she has a nose, even if it’s long.”

They brought him a long-nosed princess. They held a wedding, and the voevodich began living with his new wife. The very next day, the long-nosed princess sent her maids to see what the girl locked in the attic was doing. The maids peeked through the keyhole and saw the fair-skinned girl standing by the stove.

“Light up, stove!” she suddenly commanded.

A fire immediately flared up in the stove. The girl turned to a kneading trough full of white flour:

“Sift yourself, flour!”

The flour poured itself into the sieve and sifted.

“Knead yourself, dough!” the girl ordered.

The dough kneaded itself and began to rise quickly. Then the girl unraveled her long braids and swept the burning coals out of the stove with them. The raw loaves jumped into the oven by themselves, baked, climbed out, and settled on the shelf. Then the girl ordered the frying pan to place itself on the iron tripod over the coals. The frying pan immediately obeyed and jumped onto the tripod.

“Pour yourself, oil!”

The girl turned to the bottle of oil. The bottle jumped off the shelf, and the oil poured into the frying pan. As soon as the oil began to sizzle, the fair-skinned girl dipped her hands into it, and when she lifted them, two large fish appeared in the frying pan and began to fry.

The maids quickly ran downstairs to the long-nosed princess and told her everything they had seen.

“Big deal!” the princess said. “I can do that too.”

So she ordered her maids to stoke the stove well and stuck her head inside to sweep out the heat with her braids. Her braids caught fire and burned up, and the long-nosed princess began to resemble a singed piglet.

“Pour oil into the frying pan!” she said.

When the oil began to boil, the princess dipped her hands into it and screamed in pain:

“Oh, my goodness, I’ve burned my hands!”

But there were no fish in the frying pan. Just then, the voevodich entered the room and asked:

“What’s going on here?”

He saw his wife, shook his head, and said:

“I can’t live with a singed wife. Take her back to her father’s palace.”

Whether it was long or short, the time came for the voevodich to go to war. All his soldiers marched cheerfully. They knew they would soon defeat their enemies and return home to their wives and children. Their spears gleamed in the sun, their sabers clinked, and their horses neighed. Only the voevodich rode thoughtfully and unhappily. By evening, the army settled down for the night in an open field. The soldiers pitched their tents, lit fires, had dinner, and began to dance. Only the voevodich remained at the table. He sat with his head propped on his hand, brooding. Suddenly, two wine flasks bumped into each other and began to whisper quietly:

“Who filled you this morning?”

“The girl made of lime. And you?”

“Me too. If the voevodich takes a sip of my wine, his heart will immediately lighten.”

“And if he takes a sip of mine, his heart will become as brave as a lion’s,” added the second flask.

The voevodich immediately called his assistant and asked who this girl made of lime was.

“Don’t you know?” the assistant asked in surprise. “It’s the one locked in the little room in your attic.”

“So that’s it!” said the voevodich and took a sip from the first flask.

His heart immediately lightened. He took a sip from the second—and his heart became as brave as a lion’s. And you, of course, know that no one can defeat a man whose heart beats like a lion’s. The voevodich defeated his enemies in the very first battle and turned his army back home. Upon returning, he ran up the stairs to the attic, unlocked the door to the little room where Izvyostochka sat, and shouted:

“Thank you, my bride, for giving me a lion’s heart. One thing I don’t understand—how do you perform such miracles if you’re made of lime?”

Hearing these words, Izvyostochka lowered her eyes and said:

“Ah, how happy I am! Now I can finally speak!”

The voevodich was so surprised he gaped.

“So, you’re not mute!” he exclaimed.

The girl told him where she had come from and why she had had to remain silent until now.

After hearing her out, the voevodich rejoiced wholeheartedly, took Izvyostochka by the hand, led her downstairs to his parents, and they held a merry wedding. For three days and three nights, they feasted in the voevoda’s house. They invited the old man and old woman to the wedding, and after the wedding, they let them live in the voevoda’s house. But you might ask, what happened to the old horse? Well, kids, until the end of his days, the horse received a full measure of rice every day, and his mane was combed with a golden comb.

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The Little Piece of Lime

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