The Wood Maiden

: Czechoslovak Fairy Tales

THE STORY OF BETUSHKA AND THE GOLDEN BIRCH LEAVES





Betushka was a little girl. Her mother was a poor widow with nothing

but a tumble-down cottage and two little nanny-goats. But poor as they

were Betushka was always cheerful. From spring till autumn she

pastured the goats in the birch wood. Every morning when she left home

her mother gave her a little basket with a slice of bread and a

spindl .



"See that you bring home a full spindle," her mother always said.



Betushka had no distaff, so she wound the flax around her head. Then

she took the little basket and went romping and singing behind the

goats to the birch wood. When they got there she sat down under a tree

and pulled the fibers of the flax from her head with her left hand,

and with her right hand let down the spindle so that it went humming

along the ground. All the while she sang until the woods echoed and

the little goats nibbled away at the leaves and grass.



When the sun showed midday, she put the spindle aside, called the

goats and gave them a mouthful of bread so that they wouldn't stray,

and ran off into the woods to hunt berries or any other wild fruit

that was in season. Then when she had finished her bread and fruit,

she jumped up, folded her arms, and danced and sang.



The sun smiled at her through the green of the trees and the little

goats, resting on the grass, thought: "What a merry little shepherdess

we have!"



After her dance she went back to her spinning and worked

industriously. In the evening when she got home her mother never had

to scold her because the spindle was empty.



One day at noon just after she had eaten and, as usual, was going to

dance, there suddenly stood before her a most beautiful maiden. She

was dressed in white gauze that was fine as a spider's web. Long

golden hair fell down to her waist and on her head she wore a wreath

of woodland flowers.



Betushka was speechless with surprise and alarm.



The maiden smiled at her and said in a sweet voice:



"Betushka, do you like to dance?"



Her manner was so gracious that Betushka no longer felt afraid, and

answered:



"Oh, I could dance all day long!"



"Come, then, let us dance together," said the maiden. "I'll teach

you."



With that she tucked up her skirt, put her arm about Betushka's waist,

and they began to dance. At once such enchanting music sounded over

their heads that Betushka's heart went one-two with the dancing. The

musicians sat on the branches of the birch trees. They were clad in

little frock coats, black and gray and many-colored. It was a

carefully chosen orchestra that had gathered at the bidding of the

beautiful maiden: larks, nightingales, finches, linnets, thrushes,

blackbirds, and showy mocking-birds.



Betushka's cheeks burned, her eyes shone. She forgot her spinning, she

forgot her goats. All she could do was gaze at her partner who was

moving with such grace and lightness that the grass didn't seem to

bend under her slender feet.



They danced from noon till sundown and yet Betushka wasn't the least

bit tired. Then they stopped dancing, the music ceased, and the maiden

disappeared as suddenly as she had come.



Betushka looked around. The sun was sinking behind the wood. She put

her hands to the unspun flax on her head and remembered the spindle

that was lying unfilled on the grass. She took down the flax and laid

it with the spindle in the little basket. Then she called the goats

and started home.



She reproached herself bitterly that she had allowed the beautiful

maiden to beguile her and she told herself that another time she would

not listen to her. She was so quiet that the little goats, missing her

merry song, looked around to see whether it was really their own

little shepherdess who was following them. Her mother, too, wondered

why she didn't sing and questioned her.



"Are you sick, Betushka?"



"No, dear mother, I'm not sick, but I've been singing too much and my

throat is dry."



She knew that her mother did not reel the yarn at once, so she hid the

spindle and the unspun flax, hoping to make up tomorrow what she had

not done today. She did not tell her mother one word about the

beautiful maiden.



The next day she felt cheerful again and as she drove the goats to

pasture she sang merrily. At the birch wood she sat down to her

spinning, singing all the while, for with a song on the lips work

falls from the hands more easily.



Noonday came. Betushka gave a bit of bread to each of the goats and

ran off to the woods for her berries. Then she ate her luncheon.



"Ah, my little goats," she sighed, as she brushed up the crumbs for

the birds, "I mustn't dance today."



"Why mustn't you dance today?" a sweet voice asked, and there stood

the beautiful maiden as though she had fallen from the clouds.



Betushka was worse frightened than before and she closed her eyes

tight. When the maiden repeated her question, Betushka answered

timidly:



"Forgive me, beautiful lady, for not dancing with you. If I dance with

you I cannot spin my stint and then my mother will scold me. Today

before the sun sets I must make up for what I lost yesterday."



"Come, child, and dance," the maiden said. "Before the sun sets we'll

find some way of getting that spinning done!"



She tucked up her skirt, put her arm about Betushka, the musicians in

the treetops struck up, and off they whirled. The maiden danced more

beautifully than ever. Betushka couldn't take her eyes from her. She

forgot her goats, she forgot her spinning. All she wanted to do was to

dance on forever.



At sundown the maiden paused and the music stopped. Then Betushka,

clasping her hands to her head, where the unspun flax was twined,

burst into tears. The beautiful maiden took the flax from her head,

wound it round the stem of a slender birch, grasped the spindle, and

began to spin. The spindle hummed along the ground and filled in no

time. Before the sun sank behind the woods all the flax was spun, even

that which was left over from the day before. The maiden handed

Betushka the full spindle and said:



"Remember my words:



"Reel and grumble not!

Reel and grumble not!"



When she said this, she vanished as if the earth had swallowed her.



Betushka was very happy now and she thought to herself on her way

home: "Since she is so good and kind, I'll dance with her again if she

asks me. Oh, how I hope she does!"



She sang her merry little song as usual and the goats trotted

cheerfully along.



She found her mother vexed with her, for she had wanted to reel

yesterday's yarn and had discovered that the spindle was not full.



"What were you doing yesterday," she scolded, "that you didn't spin

your stint?"



Betushka hung her head. "Forgive me, mother. I danced too long." Then

she showed her mother today's spindle and said: "See, today I more

than made up for yesterday."



Her mother said no more but went to milk the goats and Betushka put

away the spindle. She wanted to tell her mother her adventure, but she

thought to herself: "No, I'll wait. If the beautiful lady comes again,

I'll ask her who she is and then I'll tell mother." So she said

nothing.



On the third morning she drove the goats as usual to the birch wood.

The goats went to pasture and Betushka, sitting down under a tree,

began to spin and sing. When the sun pointed to noon, she laid her

spindle on the grass, gave the goats a mouthful of bread, gathered

some strawberries, ate her luncheon, and then, giving the crumbs to

the birds, she said cheerily:



"Today, my little goats, I will dance for you!"



She jumped up, folded her arms, and was about to see whether she could

move as gracefully as the beautiful maiden, when the maiden herself

stood before her.



"Let us dance together," she said. She smiled at Betushka, put her

arm about her, and as the music above their heads began to play, they

whirled round and round with flying feet. Again Betushka forgot the

spindle and the goats. Again she saw nothing but the beautiful maiden

whose body was lithe as a willow shoot. Again she heard nothing but

the enchanting music to which her feet danced of themselves.



They danced from noon till sundown. Then the maiden paused and the

music ceased. Betushka looked around. The sun was already set behind

the woods. She clasped her hands to her head and looking down at the

unfilled spindle she burst into tears.



"Oh, what will my mother say?" she cried.



"Give me your little basket," the maiden said, "and I will put

something in it that will more than make up for today's stint."



Betushka handed her the basket and the maiden took it and vanished. In

a moment she was back. She returned the basket and said:



"Look not inside until you're home!

Look not inside until you're home!"



As she said these words she was gone as if a wind had blown her away.



Betushka wanted awfully to peep inside but she was afraid to. The

basket was so light that she wondered whether there was anything at

all in it. Was the lovely lady only fooling her? Halfway home she

peeped in to see.



Imagine her feelings when she found the basket was full of birch

leaves! Then indeed did Betushka burst into tears and reproach herself

for being so simple. In her vexation she threw out a handful of leaves

and was going to empty the basket when she thought to herself:



"No, I'll keep what's left as litter for the goats."



She was almost afraid to go home. She was so quiet that again the

little goats wondered what ailed their shepherdess.



Her mother was waiting for her in great excitement.



"For heaven's sake, Betushka, what kind of a spool did you bring home

yesterday?"



"Why?" Betushka faltered.



"When you went away this morning I started to reel that yarn. I reeled

and reeled and the spool remained full. One skein, two skeins, three

skeins, and still the spool was full. 'What evil spirit has spun

that?' I cried out impatiently, and instantly the yarn disappeared

from the spindle as if blown away. Tell me, what does it mean?"



So Betushka confessed and told her mother all she knew about the

beautiful maiden.



"Oh," cried her mother in amazement, "that was a wood maiden! At noon

and midnight the wood maidens dance. It is well you are not a little

boy or she might have danced you to death! But they are often kind to

little girls and sometimes make them rich presents. Why didn't you

tell me? If I hadn't grumbled, I could have had yarn enough to fill

the house!"



Betushka thought of the little basket and wondered if there might be

something under the leaves. She took out the spindle and unspun flax

and looked in once more.



"Mother!" she cried. "Come here and see!"



Her mother looked and clapped her hands. The birch leaves were all

turned to gold!



Betushka reproached herself bitterly: "She told me not to look inside

until I got home, but I didn't obey."



"It's lucky you didn't empty the whole basket," her mother said.



The next morning she herself went to look for the handful of leaves

that Betushka had thrown away. She found them still lying in the road

but they were only birch leaves.



But the riches which Betushka brought home were enough. Her mother

bought a farm with fields and cattle. Betushka had pretty clothes and

no longer had to pasture goats.



But no matter what she did, no matter how cheerful and happy she was,

still nothing ever again gave her quite so much pleasure as the dance

with the wood maiden. She often went to the birch wood in the hope of

seeing the maiden again. But she never did.