if possible, than the first. In her hand she carried a lovely red rose.
“God bless you, shepherd boy,” she said. “Isn’t this a lovely rose? I picked it myself from the hedge. How fragrant it is! Will you smell it?”
She offered him the rose but Yanechek refused it.
“No, thank you, beautiful maiden. My master’s garden is full of roses much sweeter than yours and I smell roses all the time.”
At that the second maiden shrugged her shoulders and disappeared.
Presently a third one came, the youngest and most beautiful of them all. In her hand she carried a golden comb.
“God bless you, shepherd boy.”
“Good day to you, beautiful maiden.”
She smiled at Yanechek and said: “Truly you are a handsome lad, but you would be handsomer still if your hair were nicely combed. Come, let me comb it for you.”
Yanechek said nothing but he took off his hat without letting the maiden see what was hidden in its crown. She came up close to him and then, just as she was about to comb his hair, he whipped out one of the long blackberry switches and struck her over
