city that was half in ruins. Not far from the city a man was burying his father, and tears as big as peas were rolling down his cheek.
“God bless you, mournful grave-digger!” Plavachek said.
“May God grant that prayer, kind traveler! Where are you going?”
“I’m going to old Grandfather Knowitall to get three of his golden hairs.”
“To Grandfather Knowitall! What a pity you didn’t come sooner! Our king has long been waiting for just such a messenger as you! I must lead you to him.”
So he took Plavachek to the king and the king said to him: “So you’re going on an errand to Grandfather Knowitall. We have a well here that used to flow with the water of life. If any one drank of it, no matter how sick he was, he would get well. Nay, if he were already dead, this water, sprinkled upon him, would bring him back to life. But, alas, for twenty years now the well has gone dry. If you promise to ask Grandfather Knowitall if there is help for us, I will reward you handsomely.”
Plavachek gave the king his promise and the king bid him godspeed.
