Fifty-Two Stories

Clinging to that thought, Bowsky put on his top hat, hoisted the double bass on his back, and trudged off to the bushes. Naked, with a musical instrument on his back, he resembled some ancient mythical demigod.

Now, reader, while my hero is sitting under the bridge, giving himself up to sorrow, let us leave him for a time and turn to the girl who was fishing. What became of her? The beauty, waking up and not seeing the float in the water, hastily pulled on the line. The line tautened, but the float and hook did not come to the surface. Apparently Bowsky’s bouquet had soaked up water, swelled, and become heavy.

“Either a big fish got caught,” thought the girl, “or the hook got snagged.”

Having pulled at the line a little more, the girl decided that the hook got snagged.

“What a pity!” she thought. “And fish bite so well in the evening. What am I to do?”

And without further thought, the eccentric girl threw off her ethereal clothes and immersed her beautiful body in the stream up to her marble shoulders. To undo the line, the hook, and the bouquet was not easy, but patience and effort won out. After some quarter of an hour, the beauty, radiant and happy, emerged from the water, holding the hook in her hand.

But ill fate lay in wait for her. The scoundrel who had stolen Bowsky’s clothes also stole her dress, leaving her only the can of worms.

“What am I to do now?” she wept. “Can I go looking like this? No, never! Better to die! I’ll wait till it gets dark; then, in the darkness, I’ll go to Aunt Agafya and send her home for a dress…And meanwhile I’ll go and hide under the little bridge.”

My heroine, choosing where the grass was higher and crouching down, scurried to the little bridge. Slipping under it, she saw a naked man with a musician’s mane and a hairy chest, cried out and fainted.

Bowsky was also frightened. At first he took the girl for a naiad.

“Isn’t she a river siren come to entice me?” he thought, and that surmise flattered him, because he had always had a high opinion of his looks. “If she’s not a siren, but a human being, how explain this strange transformation? Why is she here under the bridge? And what’s the matter with her?”

While he was debating all these questions, the beauty came to her senses.

“Don’t kill me!” she whispered. “I’m Princess Bibulova. I beseech you! You’ll be given a lot of money! I was untangling my fishing line in the water, and some thieves stole my new dress, shoes, and everything!”

“Miss!” said Bowsky in a pleading voice. “I also had my clothes stolen. And along with my trousers they also made off with the rosin that was in my pocket!”

Those who play double basses and trombones are usually unresourceful, but Bowsky was a pleasant exception.

“Miss!” he said a while later. “I see you’re embarrassed at the sight of me. But you must agree that I have the same grounds for not leaving this place as you do. Here’s what I’ve come up with: how would you like to lie in the case of my double bass and cover yourself with the lid? That will conceal me from you…”

Having said that, Bowsky took the instrument out of the case. For a moment it seemed to him that by yielding up the case he was blaspheming against the sacredness of art, but his hesitation did not last long. The beauty lay down in the case and curled up, and he tightened the straps and rejoiced that nature had endowed him with such intelligence.

“Now, miss, you don’t see me,” he said. “Lie there and be at peace. When it gets dark, I’ll carry you to your parents’ home. I can come back here later for my double bass.”

When darkness fell, Bowsky hoisted the case with the beauty on his shoulders and trudged to Bibulov’s dacha. His plan was this: he will come to the first cottage and obtain some clothing, then he will go on…

“There’s no bad without some good,” he thought, stirring up the dust with his bare feet and bending under the burden. “For the heartfelt share I’ve taken in the princess’s fate, Bibulov is sure to reward me generously.”

“Are you comfortable, miss?” he asked in the tone of a cavalier galant inviting her to a quadrille. “Kindly do not stand on ceremony: treat my case as if it were your own home.”

Suddenly the gallant Bowsky fancied that ahead of him, shrouded in darkness, two human figures were walking. He peered intently and realized that this was not an optical illusion: the figures were indeed walking and even carrying some bundles in their hands…

“Aren’t these the thieves?” flashed through his mind. “They’re carrying something. It’s probably our clothes!”

Bowsky set the case down by the roadside and ran after the figures.

“Stop!” he shouted. “Stop! Seize them!”

The figures turned and, seeing the pursuit, took to their heels…The princess heard the quick footsteps and the shouts of “Stop!” for a long time. Finally, all fell silent.