150 SLAV TALES

One had the end of a joke upon his lips, another a dainty
morsel between his teeth, or a tale ready cooked upon his
tongue.

And it was the same in all the villages throughout the
length and breadth of the land. All the inhabitants lay
under the enchanted spell. The labourer held his whip in
the air, for he had been about to strike his oxen. The
harvesters with their sickles had stopped short in their work.
The shepherds slept by their sheep in the middle of the road.
The huntsman stood with the powder still alight on the pan
of his gun. The birds, arrested in their flight, hung in mid-
air. The animals in the woods were motionless. The water
in the streams was still. Even the wind slept. Everywhere
men had been overtaken in their occupations or amusements.
It was a soundless land, without voice or movement; on all
sides calm, death, sleep.

The fisherman stood with the princess at his side in
the banqueting-hall where slept the king and his guests.
Taking the magic guzla from the maid, he pronounced these

words :

“O guzla, play, and let thy sweetest harmonies resound
Through hall and cot, o’er hill and dale, and all the country
round ;
That by the power and beauty of thy heavenly tones and song
Awakened may these sleepers be who sleep too well, too long.”

When the first tones of music burst forth everything began
to move and live again. The king finished proposing his
toast. The chamberlain ended his tale. The guests con-
tinued to feast and enjoy themselves. The servants waited