hands. As he wondered at this, he thought one of the old men said to the others: "Brothers, whither goeth this youth?"
The second answered: "Brother, to the house of Marko the Rich, to carry a letter from the merchant to his wife."
"What saith the letter?" asked the first.
The second replied: "It bids his wife prepare a huge kettle of boiling lye and push the youth into it, so that he may die. How shall we bring this evil to naught?"
"Brothers, I will alter the message," said the third, and taking the letter, he blew upon it, saying: "Let him now carry it without fear, for God will not abandon him."
In his dream Wassily the Unlucky had heard this conversation with tears, saying to himself: "What have I done, then, that the merchant should desire my cruel death?" And when he woke he was glad to think it had been but a dream. The three little old men had already departed, and feeling the letter safe in his pocket, he went on his way to the town of Marko the Rich.
So he came to the merchant's house and gave the letter to his wife. And when she had broken the seal and opened it, she read thus:
