t, but what wonder was this? The flower did not fall
straight to the earth, but for a long while twinkled like a fiery ball
through the darkness, and swam through the air like a boat. At last
it began to sink lower and lower, and fell so far away that the little
star, hardly larger than a poppy-seed, was barely visible. "There!"
croaked the old woman, in a dull voice: and Basavriuk, giving him a
spade, said, "Dig here, Peter: you will find more gold than you or Korzh
ever dreamed of."

Peter spat on his hands, seized the spade, pressed his foot on it, and
turned up the earth, a second, a third, a fourth time. The spade clinked
against something hard, and would go no further. Then his eyes began to
distinguish a small, iron-bound coffer. He tried to seize it; but the
chest began to sink into the earth, deeper, farther, and deeper still:
whilst behind him he heard a laugh like a serpent's hiss.

"No, you shall not have the gold until you shed human blood," said the
witch, and she led up to him a child of six, covered with a white sheet,
and indicated by a sign that he was to cut off his head.

Peter was stunned. A trifle, indeed, to cut off a man's, or even an
innocent child's, head for no reason whatever! In wrath he tore off the
sheet enveloping the victim's head, and behold! before him stood Ivas.
The poor child crossed his little hands, and hung his head. Peter flew
at the witch with the knife like a madman, and was on the point of
laying hands on her.

"What did you promise for the girl?" thundered Basavriuk; and like
a shot he was on his back. The witch stamped her foot: a blue flame
flashed from the earth and illumined all within it. The earth became
transparent as if moulded of crystal; and all that was within it became
visible, as if in the palm of the hand. Ducats, precious stones in
chests and pots, were piled in heaps beneath the very spot they stood
on. Peter's eyes flashed, his mind grew troubled.... He grasped the
knife like a madman, and the innocent blood spurted into his eyes.
Diabolical laughter resounded on all sides. Misshapen monsters flew past
him in flocks. The witch, fastening her hands in the headless trunk,
like a wolf, drank its blood. His head whirled. Collecting all his
strength, he set out to run. Everything grew red before him. The trees
seemed steeped in blood, and burned and groaned. The sky glowed and
threatened. Burning points, like lightning, flickered before his eyes.
Utterly exha