away, and came to the river bank, where the wind was
sighing through the tall reeds. And there he sang a farewell song to
his sister, thinking he had not long to live. The servant followed
the lamb cunningly, and crept near to catch him, and heard his little
song. This is what he sang:--

"Alenoushka, little sister,
They are going to slaughter me;
They are cutting wooden fagots,
They are heating iron cauldrons,
They are sharpening knives of steel."

And Alenoushka, lamenting, answered the lamb from the bottom of the
river:--

"O my brother Ivanoushka,
A heavy stone is round my throat,
Silken grass grows through my fingers,
Yellow sand lies on my breast."

The servant listened, and marvelled at the miracle of the lamb
singing, and the sweet voice answering him from the river. He crept
away quietly, and came to the fine gentleman, and told him what he had
heard; and they set out together to the river, to watch the lamb, and
listen, and see what was happening.

[Illustration: He stepped on one of its fiery wings and pressed it to
The ground.]

The little white lamb stood on the bank of the river weeping, so that
his tears fell into the water. And presently he sang again:--

"Alenoushka, little sister,
They are going to slaughter me;
They are cutting wooden fagots,
They are heating iron cauldrons,
They are sharpening knives of steel."

And Alenoushka answered him, lamenting, from the bottom of the
river:--

"O my brother Ivanoushka,
A heavy stone is round my throat,
Silken grass grows through my fingers,
Yellow sand lies on my breast."

The fine gentleman heard, and he was sure that the voice was the voice
of his own dear wife, and he remembered how she had loved the lamb. He
sent his servant to fetch men, and fishing nets and nets of silk. The
men came running, and they dragged the river with fishing nets, and
brought their nets empty to land. Then they tried with nets of fine
silk, and, as they drew them in, there was Alenoushka lying in the
nets as if she were asleep.

They brought her to the bank and untied the stone from her white neck,
and washed her in fresh water and clothed her in white clothes. But
they had no sooner done all this than she woke up, more beautiful than
ever she had been before, though then she was pretty enough, God
knows. She woke, and sprang up, and threw her arms round the neck of
the little white lamb