dder was standing; and, as he drew near, he saw with amazement
the great bodies of the giants lying on the ground, each with his head
severed from his body.

When the Tsar saw this he raised his hands to high heaven and cried,
'This is a great day, for the giants are all slain!' And the people, who
still remained to him, hearing his cry of joy, came running, and
gathered about him, praying that God would preserve the mighty one who
had done this astonishing deed. They were still praising the unknown
hero, when some attendants came running swiftly from the palace, to tell
the Tsar that a great snake had almost succeeded in killing the
Princess.

At this he hastened back and made his way to the room in the tower where
the Princess was lying asleep; and there he found the snake pinned to
the wall by a dagger. At once he took the hilt in his hand and tried to
drag it from the wall, but, to his great wonder, it resisted all his
efforts.

On this, seeing the great strength of the hero who had planted the
dagger there, and knowing that none but he could have the strength to
remove it, he ordered a proclamation to be issued throughout the whole
kingdom: that, if the man who had killed the nine giants and pinned the
head of the snake to the wall with his dagger, would come and draw his
dagger forth again, he would be rewarded with splendid gifts and receive
the Princess in marriage.

Far and wide went this proclamation, but the Tsar, to make doubly sure,
posted a thousand officials at as many inns on the great high-roads that
connected the city with the outlying parts of the kingdom. And these
officials' duty was to question travellers, and learn whether they had
met, or heard of, any such hero as he who had killed the giants and
transfixed the snake. Rewards were offered to any who could supply
information, and punishments were held out to those who concealed it.

Now it so happened that the three Princes, in their search for their
sisters, chanced to rest at an inn on one of the high-roads; and, when
they had finished supper, they fell into conversation with an
interesting stranger--a courtly man of cities, with manners that are
only learnt in kings' palaces. He begged to be allowed to call for
wine,--which in those days was no offence,--and, as they drank their
toasts, he fell to narrating his wonderful exploits in a far-off
kingdom--so far-off, indeed, that imagination alone could reach it, and
no other traveller could