"Well, it went just as you said, and here is the pig."
"Very well. Take it to your mother."
Víťazko gave her back the spit; he led the magic horse back to its stall, thanked Holy Sunday, and, hanging the pig from the beech-tree, made haste to go home to his mother.
The mother and the griffin were feasting; they did not expect Víťazko, and here he was. They ran away and discussed what they should do with him.
"When he has given you the pig, you must still pretend to be ill," said the griffin; "and when he asks you what will save you, tell him that only the Water of Life and the Water of Death can cure you. If he goes in quest of that, he is bound to perish."
Víťazko came running to the castle full of joy. He gave the pig to his mother, but she still went on groaning and complaining that she was going to die, and that the pig would not cure her.
"Alas! mother, don't die, but tell me what will cure you, so that I may bring it for you at once," said Víťazko anxiously.
"Ah! my dear son, I can only be cured
