relate I will now proceed to give
a sketch, allowing the stories, so far as is possible, to speak for
themselves.
If the powers of darkness in the "mythical" skazkas are divided into
two groups--the one male, the other female--there stand out as the
most prominent figures in the former set, the Snake (or some other
illustration of "Zoological Mythology"), Koshchei the Deathless, and
the Morskoi Tsar or King of the Waters. In the latter group the
principal characters are the Baba Yaga, or Hag, her close connection
the Witch, and the Female Snake. On the forms and natures of the less
conspicuous characters to be found in either class we will not at
present dwell. An opportunity for commenting on some of them will be
afforded in another chapter.
To begin with the Snake. His outline, like that of the cloud with
which he is so frequently associated, and which he is often supposed
to typify, is seldom well-defined. Now in one form and now in another,
he glides a shifting shape, of which it is difficult to obtain a
satisfactory view. Sometimes he retains throughout the story an
exclusively reptilian character; sometimes he is of a mixed nature,
partly serpent and partly man. In one story we see him riding on
horseback, with hawk on wrist (or raven on shoulder) and hound at
heel; in another he figures as a composite being with a human body and
a serpent's head; in a third he flies as a fiery snake into his
mistress's bower, stamps with his foot on the ground, and becomes a
youthful gallant. But in most cases he is a serpent which in outward
appearance seems to differ from other ophidians only in being winged
and polycephalous--the number of his heads generally varying from
three to twelve.[73]
He is often known by the name of Zmei [snake] Goruinuich [son of the
_gora_ or mountain], and sometimes he is supposed to dwell in the
mountain caverns. To his abode, whether in the bowels of the earth, or
in the open light of day--whether it be a sumptuous palace or "an
_izba_ on fowl's legs," a hut upheld by slender supports on which it
turns as on a pivot--he carries off his prey. In one story he appears
to have stolen, or in some way concealed, the day-light; in another
the bright moon and the many stars come forth from within him after
his death. But as a general rule it is some queen or princess whom he
tears away from her home, as Pluto carried off Proserpina, and who
remains with him reluctantly, and hails as her rescuer t
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