Spring had come, the snowdrifts had melted; the winds blew mild; the earth began to blossom and the birchwoods to put on leaves.

The brothers toil on their removal from Jukola to Impivaara. They tramp along a stony, twisting forest path, guns on shoulders and birch-bark knapsacks with powder and shot in them on their backs. Juhani leads the way with Killi and Kiiski, the two large, fierce Jukola dogs. Behind them, drawing a springless cart, ambles, driven by Timo, the brothers’ one-eyed horse, old Valko. The others, with their guns and knapsacks, follow the cart, helping Valko over the hardest stretches of the road. Last of all comes Eero, carrying in his arms Jukola’s doughty cock, for the brothers were loth to part with it, and had decided to take it along to the wilds of Impivaara as timepiece. On the cart were a coffer, traps for wolf and fox, an iron cauldron and in this two oaken bowls, a dipper, seven spoons and other instruments of the cook’s art. A coarse sack filled with peas served as cover to the cauldron; and highest of all, the old farm cat squirmed and mewed in a little bag. Such was the brothers’ departure from their home; silent and dejected, they trod the difficult, stony forest path. The sky was bright, the weather calm, and downhill to the west spun already the wheel of the sun.

JUHANI. Man is a seafarer on the stormy sea of life. So we too now sail away from the dear haunts of our childhood, sail with our wheeled ship across the many forests towards the steep island of Impivaara. Ah!

TIMO. It wouldn’t take much for this poor frog, too, to be dabbing tears from his cheeks.

JUHANI. That I scarce wonder at, having looked into my own bosom in this grievous hour. But there’s no help for it in this world, a man’s heart must always be hard as a flint. The child of man is born a wanderer on the face of the earth; here he has no abiding-place.

TIMO. Here he wanders a little while, struts and prances, until at last he wilts and perishes like a rat at the foot of a wall.

JUHANI. Rightly said, wisely uttered.

SIMEONI. And if that were but all; but then’s the point.

JUHANI. Then comes the question of our pound, thou wouldst say. True.

TIMO. Then we shall have to say without shift or guile; here am I and here, Lord, is thy pound.

SIMEONI. A man ought always to remember his end; but his heart is hardened.

JUHANI. Hardened, hardened, that can’t be denied. But such, God knows, are all under this heaven. Yet we can earnestly try to live hereafter as befitteth true believers, once we have settled down and built ourselves a warm abode of peace. Let us join, brothers, in a strict league and cast away all works of sin, all anger, strife and hate in our birds’-nest here. Away anger, hate and pride.

EERO. And pomp.

JUHANI. Ay!

EERO. Flaunting, sinful raiment.

JUHANI. Ay!

EERO. Spring-carts and all such church-going vanities.

JUHANI. Eh? What art thou saying?

SIMEONI. He’s joking again.

JUHANI. I see that. See that I don’t grab thee by the neck, that is, if I minded the babbling of a rogue; but I wouldn’t be a man if I did, that I wouldn’t. How, thou twice damned imp, art thou holding that cock? Why is the poor brute squawking?

EERO. I only set its wing right; it hung down.

JUHANI. I’ll set thee right soon. See that I don’t collar hold of thee. Know that that is the best cock in the whole of our province at his job. The first time he crows at two, the second at four o’clock, which is the best time for rising. We shall have much joy of that cock out here in the wilds. And the cat then up there on the load! Ah Matti-lad! There thou dancest and swayest and peerest out of thy sack, mewing quite pitifully. Poor old fellow, there aren’t very many days left for thee to stalk about in. Thy eyes are turning very dark and thy mewing sounds hoarse. But perhaps thou wilt still pick up when thou startest on the fat forest mice. I hope so. But ’tis you, Killi and Kiiski, I love above everything. Like ourselves, you were born and bred on Jukola Farm, grew up with us like true brothers. Ah, how burningly you look into my eyes! Ay, Killi, ay, my Kiiski-lad, ay! And wagging your tails so merrily! Well, well, you can’t know that we are now leaving our beautiful home. Oh you poor wretches! I can’t help it, I must weep.

TIMO. Look to thine own advice a moment ago. Keep a stout heart, a stout heart.

JUHANI. I can’t, I can’t, leaving my golden home.

TUOMAS. Truly a day to weigh on a man’s heart; but up on Impivaara we shall soon have another home, soon perhaps as dear.

JUHANI. What, brother? Not in heaven or on earth is there a spot as dear to us as the place where we were born and bred and in whose fields we played as little, milk-bearded brats.

AAPO. The hour of parting crushes our hearts, ’tis true, for even to a hare the home-bush is dear.

JUHANI. What was it the mother-hare once said, when feeling herself heavy again, she sent the little hare away, out of the way of a coming brood?

TIMO. ‘Get thee on thy way, little son, little one, and remember always what I say: where the bush is there the trap is, where the leap is there the snare’.

JUHANI. So she said to her son and the lad went lolloping away; he lolloped, gaping, along the clearing and the edge of the heath, his split lip in a guileless grin, so he parted from his home, and mournfully shone the eve.

EERO. That was Jussi the Hare.

JUHANI. If thou wilt. So he parted from his home, and so we too part from ours. Farewell, home! I could kiss thy threshold, even thy dunghill now.

AAPO. Ay, brother. But let us try to drive this gloom out of our minds. Soon we shall have a mighty task before us, soon the logs will thunder, the axes ring, and up on Impivaara clearing a huge cabin rise towards the heavens, set in the grandest forest. See, we are now already in the wilds, amongst the roaring spruce.

Thus they spoke among themselves as they journeyed across a dismal backwood. But soon the land began to rise, and their path wound upward to a tree-clad height, which was called Teerimäki. Here and there were mossy crags, shaped like the burial mounds of giants, round which the dwarfed, stout-rooted pines soughed and murmured. Severely were the cart and Valko’s aged shoulder-blade shaken on the rocky road, where the eye could sometimes barely discern the marks of the trail. The path led over a hill, for bottomless quagmires stretched on either side. But the brothers, too, did their utmost to lighten the toil of their one-eyed comrade. And at last the summit was reached, and granting Valko a short breathing-space, they looked down on the spreading earth. Their eye caught distant villages, meadows, fields, blue lakes, and on the edge of the forests in the west, the high steeple of a church. But in the south, on the slope of a knoll, Jukola glowed like a lost land of delight; and once again the brothers’ bosoms filled with languishing thoughts. At last, however, they tore their glance away and looked north, and there saw lofty Impivaara, its steeply sloping sides, its darkling caves and the moss-bearded, storm-riven spruce that stood along the ribs of the fell. But below the fell they saw a pleasant stump-besprinkled clearing, their future dwelling-place, and below the clearing a copse to yield them sturdy logs wherewith to build their home. All this they saw: Lake Ilvesjärvi shine clear between the pines and a bright sun near to its setting beam from the northwest spur of the fell; and once more a delicious flash of hope sparkled in their eyes and caused their breasts to swell.

Onward they fared again and began with bolder speed to hasten to their new abode. The hill was passed and they came to a cluster of pines on a heath, where heather, mountain-cranberry and withered tufts of grass in varied sequence hid the echoing ground. Across a sandy, man-built road, which led from Viertola Manor to the church, they marched, keeping to their forest rack along the spine of the heath.

AAPO. This is the heath on which, so the old folk say, the court-room of the snakes used to be. The judge was their own king, that white snake so rarely seen of man, which has a crown of untold worth on its head. But once a gallant rider robbed them of the crown, as the story tells us.

And Aapo related the following tale to them as they trudged down the spine of the heath towards desolate Sompio Bog.

A rider came and on the heath saw the Snake King, which bore a glittering crown on its head. Riding towards it, he snatched the crown from the king’s head with the point of his sword, dug the spurs into his horse and whirled away with his treasure as though borne on clouds and wind. But neither were the snakes slow in setting out in furious pursuit of the brazen robber. Curled into rings, they sped hissing after him, and a thousand hoops whizzed on the rider’s track like the discs cast by playing boys on the road. Soon they caught up the rider, swarmed already thickly round the horse’s feet, bouncing up along its flanks, and great was the man’s danger. And in his distress he threw down his hat as a sop to them, which they at once tore into pieces and swallowed in the fury of their rage. But not for long did this trick help the man; soon the snakes sped on his track again and the sand whirled high on the road. And ever fiercer the rider spurred on his panting horse; blood ran in streams from the fiery stallion’s ribs, and from its mouth a spumy lather spouted. The rider fled to the woods, but the trees did not hinder the speed of his pursuers. They came to a river, and with a mighty splash he rode headlong into its depths, and swiftly the stallion bore him over. The snakes too came to the river and with the thunder of many rapids dashed into the bosom of its waves, swimming across with the swiftness of a storm; and the white foam rose high in the sky. The man rode on, and still the maddened horde pursued him. Then afar off, he saw a forest that burned fiercely, and now towards this he spurred his steed, and wrapping himself in the cloak that the river had wetted through, charged into the whirling flames; but the snakes never tarried a whit in following him. So might the mounted hero of Heaven cleave the golden clouds. Once more he struck his spurs into the stallion’s sides, once more he was borne onward, and then the groaning stallion fell, forgetting for ever the heated racket of life. But the man stood there free, saved from the fire and his awful enemy; for the fire had burned the numberless host of snakes. There the hero stood with rejoicing glances, the marvellous trinket in his hand.

AAPO. That is the tale of the white snake’s crown on this same heath.

JUHANI. A grand tale and still grander the man who snatched the crown from the snake’s head and won it at last for himself. A bonny man!

TIMO. Few have ever seen this snake, but he who sees it becomes matchlessly wise, old folk say.

JUHANI. It is also said: ‘Whosoever catches this judge-snake, in the spring before the cuckoo sings, and boils and eats it, that man will understand the speech of the ravens which tells him what is going to happen to him’.

EERO. It is also said thus: ‘Whosoever dost as thou sayest after the cuckoo sings, that man will understand the raven’s speech which tells him what has happed to him.’

JUHANI. Oh little brother, how daftly thou speakest! Doesn’t every man know that without swallowing a crumb of snake’s meat? Look you, now Eero has shown us the man he really is in the matter of brains, an addled sheep. ‘Tell him what has happed to him’. Can such a thought hail from a man’s brain? Oh thou poor ninny!

AAPO. Not so fast, Juho. He spoke either in ignorance or else it was one of his jests; however that may be, in either case he cast down before us a thought worth marking. Let us try to weigh his words and I believe we can fish out the wisdom in them. To know what has happened, is, one way of looking, great wisdom. If thou weighest over carefully what seed sown in byegone days gave profitable, what harmful fruit, and mappest out thy life, deeds and works, thereafter, thou art a wise man. If our own eyes had opened earlier, we shouldn’t be tramping here now like emigrants, I believe.

JUHANI. Like wolves’ cubs under the naked sky. But what’s done is done.

TUOMAS. What we lost in Jukola we can gain again on Impivaara clearing. Ho, hither the whole crowd of brothers, and let each man dig his claws into the load to help Valko until the bog is crossed. All of you hither! The wheels are sunk a whole span into the muddy ground.

Speaking thus among themselves they had wandered down from the heath, crossed Seunala Matti’s wide clearing, passed through a close-growing spruce-wood and now stood on the brink of Sompio Bog. Cheerless spread the bog, its surface showing in succession muddy, quaggy openings, mossy hummocks, and whortleberry bushes, while here and there stood a stunted dying birch, mournfully nodding its crown in the evening breeze. In the middle the bog was narrowest and there the earth was closer and firmer than elsewhere. Here stood short pines in mossy attire, and on the hummocks grew strong-scented bog-bilberry bushes. And over this stretch of land a wretched track reached over to the bog’s farther shore, where the dark wilds began again. Along this road the brothers ventured out on the bog. Some pulled at the shafts beside Valko, the others pushed at the cart behind. And at last, after much exertion, the brink was reached and they fared again on dry land along a root-crossed forest track to the extent of some five hundred paces. And at last the stump-besprinkled level of the clearing shone before them and they had reached their goal, beneath the crannied fell.

Where they now stood, the brothers’ grandfather, a giant at toil, had once sown his clearings, and the smoke of his enormous charcoal-pits had risen like incense to the sky. Many were the forests around this fell that he had cut down and burned to clear and fructify the soil, many the black, sown fields he had harrowed with his clumsy, wooden-toothed harrow, to bear ultimately to his barn the grain-crowned sheaves. A tumbled ruin on the clearing’s edge still marked the site of his barn, whence the precious grain had at once been carted home, leaving for winter’s easier sledge-ways the straw and chaff. Some distance from the ruins of the barn, where forest and clearing met, the black cavity of a charcoal pit, immensely large, could still be seen, where he had burned the logs from his clearings for tinkling charcoal. In such tasks had the former sturdy master of Jukola toiled and laboured here beneath many scorching suns, wiping many a gush of pearly sweat from his brow. But his nights he rested in a turf-roofed hut, watching his kilns; and this hut the brothers had chosen for their temporary home.

Vast is the stump-filled clearing, yet beyond its edges thine eye cannot pierce; for in the east, the south and the west, forests limit the view and in the north the lofty fell. But ascend the fell, to its ridge crowned by scattered spruce, and thy glance can range far on every side. Southward thou seest first, right beneath thy feet, the gently slanting clearing, a little beyond this a gloomy forest, beyond this again Sompio Bog, and yonder far on the verge of the sky rises Teerimäki, a fainting blue. On its northern side the fell sinks gradually, its sloping side, burned of yore for tilling, now displaying to the eye a close-knit weft of growing birch, on whose grassless paths the heath-grouse strut and the ruff-grouse whistle mournfully. In the east is a level heath where the pines grow tall; in the west a rocky country of mossy crags, with low, yet massive and thick-crowned pines set here and there on velvety ridges. Behind the pines, limpid and teeming with fish, Lake Ilvesjärvi glitters, a thousand or so paces from the clearing. More thou wilt hardly see, though thy glance roam far indeed. The backwood’s darkling sea looms round on every side. Thou canst catch, however, a dim gleam of Viertola Manor in the northeast, and far away on the distant southwest edge of the earth a grey church spire. Such with its surroundings was the spot the Jukola brothers had chosen for their home.

But this evening the brothers halted close to the charcoal-burner’s hut, and having freed the weary Valko from the shafts to seek, with a bell tied round his neck, his own pastures, they gathered stumps and faggots for a merry fire on the clearing. There Simeoni broiled sprats, turnips and beef for supper, while the others bustled round the cart, unpacking the load and bearing each tool and chattel to its appointed place. And when this was done and the food ready, they sat down to eat on the twilit clearing; and the sun had sunk behind the fell.

SIMEONI. This then is the first meal in our new home; may it bring luck and God’s peace to all our other meals.

JUHANI. May luck, a bounteous luck, be our only comrade here in all the works and deeds our hands can find to do.

AAPO. I have something important to say.

JUHANI. Loosen it from the cockles of thy heart.

AAPO. A headless body is no use, say I.

JUHANI. But bangs against walls like a beheaded hen.

TIMO. Never mind beheaded, when the fit comes on it, a hen’ll dash about like that and that, hither and thither. Old Mother Pinewood’s hens often do, and then the old woman says the sorcerers’ arrows are flying through the air.

JUHANI. Empty thy mouth, brother Aapo.

AAPO. This is the thought in my mind: if we wish to get anything done here and done properly, one of us must be chief, leader of our councils, settler of our quarrels. In a word, let there be one among us whose voice shall always be foremost, for the sake of order.

JUHANI. I am the eldest here.

AAPO. Thou art first-born in the row of Jukolas, so may the due right be thine.

JUHANI. I am head of the row, and know how to demand obedience of you--if you would only obey me.

AAPO. That is fair and just. But still, let us hear everyone’s voice in matters that concern us all.

JUHANI. To thy advice in particular I shall always lend a willing ear. But I am chief.

AAPO. True. But what punishment shall we settle on for him who is always obstinate, always against the rest?

JUHANI. I will thrust him into a cavern on yonder fell, and carry a heavy pile of rocks to close up the cavern’s mouth. There he can sit a day or two, as matters and circumstances demand. Ay, there he can suck his nails and ponder over his solitude.

LAURI. I won’t agree to that for one.

TUOMAS. Nor I.

TIMO. Am I then a wrinkly-faced badger, whose home is a stuffy mountain cave? Far from it.

JUHANI. You begin to mutiny?

TUOMAS. That paragraph about punishment won’t do. No.

TIMO. Won’t hold water, as the saying goes. I’m no badger, or skunk either.

JUHANI. Then behave thyself nicely and well, to escape the vengeful terror of my wrath.

TIMO. But I am not a badger, nor a wolf. Hey! I’m not even a bear, nor a rat! Shame, for shame! Hey, hey!

AAPO. May I be allowed to say a word?

JUHANI. Willingly. What didst thou wish to say?

AAPO. That neither do I approve of that punishment paragraph which thou wouldst lay down for us, but look upon it as too cruel, too savage amongst brothers.

JUHANI. Oh, thou dost not approve? Thou dost not approve? Dost thou really not approve? Then tell us a wiser paragraph, as I never seem to know what is right, what wrong.

AAPO. That I won’t do.

JUHANI. Tell us the new, approved paragraph, thou Jukolas’ sage.

AAPO. Far from the honour of sage. But this ...

JUHANI. The paragraph! The paragraph!

AAPO. This is ...

JUHANI. The paragraph, the paragraph! Tell us the wise paragraph!

AAPO. Art thou mad? Shouting there as though thy breeches were ablaze. What art thou shrieking and wagging thy head for like a garden-owl?

JUHANI. The paragraph! I cry madly. The brand new and old wise paragraph! Say it and I’ll listen speechless as a roach to a frog’s croaking.

AAPO. This is my idea in the matter. He who scorns advice and warnings and always stirs up mischief, sowing the seed of discord among us, let him be removed from our midst, let him be driven far away.

TUOMAS. Let this be the law.

LAURI. I agree to that.

TIMO. I too.

SIMEONI. We all agree to that together.

JUHANI. Hm. That’s settled then. And remember, the one who feels like getting frisky after this, it’s a hare’s passport in his fist, a kick in the buttocks and the open road for him. What work shall we start on tomorrow, you blackamoors? Oh I’ll teach you yet.

AAPO. Still a little heated; but that needn’t dim our calm and bright spirits in this evening hour.

JUHANI. What shall we begin on when the day dawns?

AAPO. The building of our cabin comes first of course.

JUHANI. That’s so. Early tomorrow let four men, each with an axe-shaft in his paw, start at his corner, these men being I myself, Tuomas, Simeoni and Aapo. The others can square the logs and roll them up to us. And as soon as the cabin and a tiny store-house are ready, all hands to gathering grub on hunting and fishing trips. Remember that!

They finished at last their meal and lay down to rest in the shelter of the hut. Night came, a cloudy, yet calm May night. In the wilds the owl screeched hoarsely, the wild duck croaked on the lake, and now and again the sharp whistle of a bear was heard from afar. Else peace and a deep silence in nature. But to the brothers in their turf-roofed hut sleep seemed loth to come. Speechless, but tossing from side to side, they pondered over the way of the world and the instability of life.

AAPO. I believe not a single eye has closed yet.

JUHANI. Timo’s already asleep, but we others wriggle and twist here like sausages in a boiling cauldron. Why are we so wide-awake?

AAPO. The path of our lives has taken a sharp turn today.

JUHANI. That’s what makes me so uneasy, so very uneasy in my mind.

SIMEONI. Dark is the state of my heart. What am I? A prodigal son.

JUHANI. Hm. A lost sheep in the wilderness.

SIMEONI. Leaving our neighbours and Christian fellows like this.

TUOMAS. Here we are and here we stay as long as the forest yields fresh meat.

AAPO. All will turn out well if only we always set to with common-sense.

SIMEONI. The owl is hooting in yonder wilds and its cry never bodes any good. Doesn’t it foretell fire, bloody battle and murder, as the old folks say?

TUOMAS. To hoot in the forest is its job and has no meaning.

EERO. Here we are in our village, on Impivaara’s turf-roofed farm.

SIMEONI. Now the seer has changed his perch and hoots on the ridge of the fell. There, once upon a time as the tale tells us, the ‘Pale Maiden’ used to pray forgiveness for her sins, all through the night, summer and winter.

JUHANI. It was from her the fell got the name Impivaara.[2] I once heard the story as a child, but most of it has already faded from my memory. Brother Aapo, tell us this tale to wile away this dismal night.

AAPO. Timo snores like a man; but let him sleep in peace; I’d like to tell it to you others.

The following tale of the Pale Maiden was now told by Aapo to his brothers.

In the caverns of this fell there once dwelt a horrible monster, the terror and death of all humans. The two great lusts and passions of his life were: to gaze on and finger his treasures in the deepest corners of the caverns, and to drink human blood, for which he thirsted greatly. But his power to use violence ended nine paces away from the fell, and so he was forced to use trickery on his excursions. He could change himself into anything he liked; and he was seen wandering around now in the form of a beautiful youth, now in the form of a lovely maiden, according to whether it was male or female blood he wanted. Many were overcome by the hellish delight of his glance, many gave up their lives in his fearsome caverns. In this way the monster tempted victims into his power.

It was a mild summer night. A youth sat on the green sward, embracing his beloved, who rested on his bosom like a glowing rose. This was their farewell embrace, for the youth had to go on a journey and leave the friend of his heart for a time. ‘Maiden,’ said the youth, ‘I leave thee now, but scarce a hundred suns shall have risen and set before again I meet thee.’ Said the maiden: ‘Nor the sun in its setting ever casts so loving a farewell glance at its world as I to my lover when he departs, nor the rising flame of day glow with a delight like to that in my eyes when I hasten to meet thee again. And all that the bright day can hold of my soul is my thought of thee, and in the dim world of dreams I will walk with thee.’ Thus the maiden, but the youth said: ‘Sweetly thou speakest, but why does my soul scent evil? Maiden mine, let us swear eternal faithfulness to each other here under the face of Heaven.’ And they swore a sacred oath, swore before God and Heaven, and the forests and fells listened breathless to their words. And when the day broke they embraced for the last time and parted. Away hastened the youth, but the maiden roamed for long alone in the forest’s twilight, remembering her beautiful lover.

As she thus wanders in the dense forest, what marvellous being is this that comes forth to meet her? She sees a young man, noble as a prince and fair as that golden morning. Like a flame the tuft of feathers in his hat gleams and glitters. From his shoulders hangs a cloak, blue as the sky and like the sky, spattered with stars. His doublet is white as snow; round his waist a purple belt is tied. He looks at the maiden and from his glance streams a flaming love, and his voice echoes blissfully as he says to her: ‘Fear me not, sweet maid, for I am thy friend and will grant thee limitless joy if I may embrace thee but once. I am a mighty man, treasure and jewels without end are mine, and I could purchase the whole of this world. Be my bride and I will take thee to a splendid palace and seat thee beside me on a shining throne.’ This he said in an enticing tone and the maiden stood there dazed. She remembered the oath newly sworn and turned to go, but bent again towards the man, and a strange bewilderment possessed her mind. She turned towards the man, hiding her face with her hand as one who looks upon the sun; turned away, but looked once more upon the wondrous being. A mighty love shone thence to meet her, and suddenly the maiden sank in the prince’s arms. But away sped the prince with his prey, who lay in his arms as in a swoon. Over steep hills, across deep valleys, they fled without resting, and darker and darker grew the forest around them. The maiden’s heart beat uneasily and an anguished sweat ran down from her brow; for at last she noticed something beastlike, terrible, in the bewitching blaze of the being’s eyes. She looked around her, and swiftly the gloomy spruce hurtled past them as her bearer sped on; she looked in the youth’s eyes and ghastly spasms shook her body, but a strange delight still gripped her soul.

They fared ever onward through the forests and at last saw a lofty fell fitted with dark caverns. And now, only a few paces from the mountain, the horror occurred. The man in kingly attire suddenly became a hideous monster. Horns broke out upon his forehead, stiff bristles rustled on his neck, and the wretched maiden felt with pain his sharp claws at her breast. And there the hapless maiden shrieked, fought and struggled in her agony, but in vain. With an evil scream the monster dragged her to his deepest cave and sucked her blood to the very last drop. But now a miracle occurred; the life failed to leave the maiden’s limbs; bloodless, white as snow, she went on living, like a mournful spectre of death from the lands beyond. The monster saw this with amazement and used both teeth and claws to the best of his power against his victim, but to no avail. At last he decided to keep her for ever at his side in the bowels of the fell. But what service could she do him? What profit could he draw from her presence there? He put her to clean his treasures and precious stones and to pile them unceasingly before him, for he never tired of looking at them.

So for years the pallid bloodless maiden lived imprisoned in the fell. But at night she was seen standing in silent prayer on its summit. Who gave her this freedom? Was it the power of Heaven? Through the nights, in storm, in rain, and biting frosts she stands on the brow of the fell praying forgiveness for her sins. Bloodless, white as snow, like an image, so silent, moveless she stands, hands on breast, head bent down. Not once dares the wretched maiden lift her brow towards Heaven; but towards the church tower on the forest’s distant edge her eyes are ever fixed. For a secret voice still breathes hope in her ear, though no bigger than a distant spark, a thousand leagues away, does this hope gleam to her. Thus she spends her nights on the fell, and never a plaint falls from her lips, nor does her bosom ever rise or fall in sighs. So wears the bloomy night, but at dawn she is snatched into the cavern by the pitiless monster.

Scarce had a hundred suns lit up the world before the maiden’s lover returned merrily from his journey. But no sweet bride hastened to meet him. He asked where the fair one tarried, but no one could give him answer. He sought her everywhere by day and night, untiringly, but in vain; the maid had fled like the morning dew, leaving no trace. And at last hope left him; he forgot the joy of life, and walked yet a while on earth, a dumb shadow. Until one flaming morning the light of his eyes was dimmed in the night of death.

But the maiden lived through years of terrible length, the days in the monster’s cavern, ceaselessly cleaning and piling up treasures under her cruel warder’s eyes, the nights on the fell. Nor dare she raise her forehead to the heavens, but to the church tower on the forest’s distant rim her eyes are ever strained. She makes no plaint, nor does her bosom ever rise or fall in sighs.

It is a light summer night. The maiden stands again on the fell, thinking of the time she has passed in cruel imprisonment; and a hundred years have gone by since she parted from her friend. Horror seizes her, her mind swoons and cold beads of sweat drop from her brow to the mossy ground as she pictures the length of those years. Then for the first time she dared to look up at the sky, and presently she saw a wondrous light approaching her like a star out of eternal distance. And the nearer this light came the more it altered in shape. And it was no shooting star, but the transfigured youth, a gleaming sword in his hand. His face seemed deliciously familiar, and the maiden’s heart beat quicker, for now she recognized her former bridegroom. But why the sword? It filled the maid with dread, and in a faint voice she uttered: ‘Is this the sword that ends at last my pain? Here is my breast, young hero, strike with thy gleaming sword and if thou canst, then grant me death, for which I have thirsted so long.’ Thus she spoke on the fell; but the youth brought her, not death, but the divine breath of life, which moved already round her like a perfumed morning wind. With loving glance he folded her in his arms, kissed her, and soon the bloodless maiden felt a thin stream of blood rush like the fairest torrent through her veins; her cheek glowed like a cloud at dawn and joy shone from her white forehead. Casting her curly head on her bridegroom’s arm she looked up into the sunlit heights, purging her breast of a century’s pain in a sigh; and the youth’s fingers strayed in her curls, which fluttered prettily in the wind. Blissful was the hour of rescue and the morn of her day of deliverance. Birds warbled in the spruce on the sides of the mighty fell, and in the northeast rose the sun’s glowing edge. Like to that other morning when the friends had parted on the green sward was this morn.

But now the fierce monster, his bristles wrathfully erect, clambered up the fell to drag the maiden down to his pit. But hardly had he stretched his claws towards her, when the youth’s sword, swift as lightning, pierced his breast; and the black blood spouted on the fell. The maiden turned away her head at the sight and pressed her brow to the youth’s breast as the monster, with a fearful cry, gave up his life and rolled off the fell. Thus was the world delivered from a terrible scourge. But in the bright embrace of a silver cloud the youth and maiden were wafted into the sky. On her bridegroom’s knees the bride rested, and pressing her brow to his bosom, smiled happily. Through space they flew, and deep in the giddy depths the forests, fells and winding valleys were left behind. Until at last all faded from their sight as in a cloud of blue smoke.

Such was the tale of the Pale Maiden told by Aapo to his brothers on that sleepless night in the turf-roofed hut on Impivaara clearing.

JUHANI. Here’s Timo waking just as our tale ends.

TIMO. Why don’t you sleep in peace, boys?

JUHANI. Here’s been a mighty telling of tales. Ay, that was the tale of the former maiden and the monster.

SIMEONI. But they say this awful monster still lives. Hunters have seen him; he has only one eye that shines in the dark like a glowing cinder.

JUHANI. What was it happened a few years ago to old man Kuokkala, now sleeping in the Lord? One spring, while he was out at the capercaillies’ matingtime and awaited the passing of midnight by his camp-fire on this clearing, he saw over there at the foot of the fell that same glow and heard a voice that kept on asking endlessly; ‘Shall--a--chuck--it, shall--a--chuck--it?’ It asked that many thousand times over, until the old man, one of the old sort whose heart didn’t start beating for any little thing, got mad at last and answered in a fierce voice: ‘Chuck it then, thou Devil’s food!’

TIMO. But ah! no more was needed.

JUHANI. Ay, tell us, Timo, what happened.

TIMO. Well, in a minute a grinning skeleton comes crashing on to the old man’s fire as though thrown by ten men and puts out the blaze to the very last spark. But at that the old man snatched up his rifle and toddled off out of sight of the whole fell, although, as Juhani here said, he was one of the old sort whose heart didn’t start beating for every little thing.

SIMEONI. We have come therefore to a town of trolls and devils.

AAPO. Here we have come and here we shall stay without fear. Even if he were still alive, the monster is now very weak, that is shown by his behaviour towards old man Kukkala. All he could do in his spite was to put out the fire, even that only when the man gave him leave. His power was broken for ever by the young man’s sword.

JUHANI. I can’t help feeling pity though for the maiden in the bowels of the earth, a girl with that accursed bristle-neck.

SIMEONI. Why didn’t she stand firm against temptation?

JUHANI. Ay, my son, don’t say that! How would it be, for instance, if in some flowery vale of peace a king’s daughter were to meet thee, fair as a rose and flower, trip towards thee in silks, ribbons and the smell of pomades, in glittering golden frippery like a peacock, ay, a wench like that met thee and wanted to cuddle and kiss thee, how would it be with thy miserable heart? I ask thee, Simeoni?

SIMEONI. I’d pray for strength in belief.

JUHANI. Hm.

TIMO. I wouldn’t let her come cuddling me and still less lip-smacking. Keep away from me, I’d say, keep, thou jade, at a distance, or I’ll fetch a stick from yonder thicket and lay on until thy back is mottled tomorrow worse than a lady-bird’s wing. That’s what I’d do without any mercy. I’d show her.

JUHANI. Oh little brother! I believe thou wouldst talk differently if thou hadst looked around thee a little more in this world, if thou hadst been, for instance, in Turku Town. Thats’ what I’ve done when I drove the bulls there from Viertola Manor. I saw more than one thing to wonder at there, saw how pomp and glitter can turn the heads of sons of men. Ah thee, ah rowdy village, ah worldly life indeed! There rattles a carriage, here another, and in them sit the most fly-away fools with whiskery faces, and girls like porcelain dolls, spreading far around them a thick scent of costly oils and ointments. But look yonder! Help and save me! there, all in gilded feathers, minces a real jewel of a madam or miss, whatever she be. See her neck! White as curdled milk, cheeks red as the plague, and the eyes in her head burn like to bonfires in daylight as a true rapscallion of a lad sails up to her in a hat, shiny black tails, and peeps ... well, may the Devil himself take thee!--peeps at her through a square bit of glass that gleams in the rascal’s left eye. But now ... by the Seven Smiths!--now they bob and bow on both sides, and see the woman purse up her mouth to a real strawberry of a mouth and twitter like a swallow on a sunlit roof, and the nob before her wag his hand and his tail, wave his hat and scrape his foot till the paving strikes sparks, ah, that was a game for you. Oh jays that ye are, thinks I to myself, a bit of a boy, standing there at the street corner, a bunch of raw hides on my shoulder and staring mouth agape at this billing.

TUOMAS. Gentlefolk are fools.

TIMO. And childish as milk-chinned brats. So they eat, too, with rags over their chests and without--dog take me--knowing enough to lick their spoons clean when they rise from table; that I have seen with my own eyes to my great surprise.

SIMEONI. But at tricking and cheating a farmer they are man enough.

JUHANI. True that among gentlefolk there is much that is womanish and silly, that I saw on my trip to Turku. But look you, when a simpering wench like that, in real scented oils and flying laces, comes near, it’s not to say that the heart of a son of man doesn’t begin to flutter. Ay, boys, the lusts of this world tempt strongly, that I noticed on my trip to Turku. And I say once again, that my heart bleeds for the maiden on yonder fell. It was time for her to be saved from Hell and to sail with her friend to a haven of peace, to which may God help us also in His time. In this hope let’s try to sleep now. There’s still another marvellous tale about this fell, but it can keep for the present and let’s all try to sleep. Go thou, however, Simeoni, and cover the glowing cinders with ashes, so that I needn’t sit tinkling my fire-irons and waving a bunch of hay tomorrow, but can begin at once hammering at the end of a log like a red-crested woodpecker. Go now.

Simeoni went out to do Juhani’s bidding, but came quickly back with hair erect and eyes starting out of his head. Stutteringly he uttered something about a strange burning eye out there near the cart. At that the others too were startled, and with a blessing on their souls and bodies went out of the hut in a body; and their hair resembled a wind-gathered tangle in the crown of a birch. Moveless, dumb as statues they stood, staring in the direction shown by Simeoni’s pointing finger. Without blinking they stared and saw beyond mistake a mystic gleam near the cart, which sometimes disappeared, but soon showed itself again. They might have deemed it the lone eye of their horse Valko, only no whiteness loomed around it, but rather something black, and there was no sound of the bell. Pondering thus, the brothers stood without moving; but at last Tuomas said in a fairly masterful voice:

TUOMAS. What is lacking?

JUHANI. For God’s sake don’t talk so high and mighty with him. It’s him! What shall we do now, brothers? It’s him! What shall we say to him?

AAPO. I surely don’t know.

TIMO. Now a verse of a hymn would do good.

JUHANI. Doesn’t one of us know a single prayer by heart? Pray, dear brothers, out with something in God’s name, whatever comes into your heads, without any bothering about suiting the text to the occasion. Say the Home Baptism Service, brothers dear, if you know nothing else.

TIMO. I’ve known one and another stretch of the hymnbook in my time, but now it’s as though a fearful prop were holding up the door of my brain.

SIMEONI. The spirit won’t allow thee to speak, any more than he will me.

TIMO. Ay, he won’t allow me.

JUHANI. This is terrible!

AAPO. Terrible!

TIMO. Truly terrible!

JUHANI. What can we do?

TUOMAS. A firm behaviour towards him is best, I believe. Let us ask him who he is and what he wants.

JUHANI. Let me ask him. Who art thou? Who art thou? Who art thou and what dost want of us?--Not a word in answer.

LAURI. Lay hold of embers.

JUHANI. We’ll lay hold of embers from the fire and baste thee to a turn unless thou sayest thy name, thy family and thy errand.

LAURI. No, I meant let’s grab the embers at once.

JUHANI. If we dared.

TUOMAS. One death we owe to the Lord.

JUHANI. Ay, we owe the Lord one death! Embers in fist, boys!

Soon they stood in a row, burning brands for weapons in their hands. Foremost stood Juhani, his eyes round as an owl’s, staring at the eye behind the cart, which with a fine glow stared back at him. So stood the brothers with their fiery weapons on the nightly clearing; and a lapwing cried from the mountain spruce, the dismal wilds below them breathed heavily, and dark clouds covered the arch of the sky.

JUHANI. When I say ‘Now boys!’ let the brands rain from our fists on to the devil’s neck.

SIMEONI. Let us try again if we can lay it first.

JUHANI. Well thought! Let’s try a little laying first. But what shall I say to him? Whisper thou to me, Simeoni, for I myself am oddly stupid just now. But whisper the words to me and I’ll cast them in his face until the forest echoes.

SIMEONI. Note than what I say. Here we stand.

JUHANI. Here we stand!

SIMEONI. Like heroes of the Faith, with flaming swords in our hands.

JUHANI. Like heroes of the Faith, with flaming swords in our hands!

SIMEONI. Go thy way.

JUHANI. Go to thy Hell!

SIMEONI. We are baptized Christians, warriors of the Lord.

JUHANI. We are baptized Christians, warriors of the Lord, Christ’s soldiers!

SIMEONI. Even though we cannot read.

JUHANI. Even though we cannot read.

SIMEONI. But believe notwithstanding.

JUHANI. But believe notwithstanding and trust firmly in it.

SIMEONI. Go now.

JUHANI. Go now!

SIMEONI. Soon the cock croweth.

JUHANI. Soon the cock croweth!

SIMEONI. Proclaiming the light of the Lord.

JUHANI. Proclaiming the light of the Lord Zebaoth!

SIMEONI. But he doesn’t seem to take any notice.

JUHANI. But he doesn’t seem to.... Ay, he doesn’t care though I bawl at him with the tongue of angels. May the Lord bless us, boys, for there’s nothing left but to--Now, boys!

At that each threw his burning brand at the apparition, which, with the speed of lightning, began running away with a thunder of four hoofs, and the glowing cinders on its back flashed for long as it cleft the darkness. It fled thus from the fiery skirmish, and reaching the clearing’s edge, dared at last to stop, blowing once or twice noisily. And the brothers’ ghost, the awe-inspiring monster, proved after all to be their one-eyed horse, which had lost for the time its whitish colour in the black mudpools of the morass, into which it had probably strayed and there splashed despairingly before regaining dry land. There, too, in its struggles it had loosened the bell from its neck, a matter which had greatly assisted to bewilder the brothers. This was the eye that had gleamed in the darkness behind the cart, as many an animal’s eye can glow in the dark. But only after a moment or two had passed, and even then with caution, did the brothers dare to approach Valko and finally establish their error. They returned with wrathful faces to their hut, and at last as the night paled each lay in untroubled sleep.