The castle was of pure lead; round it fluttered the twelve ravens, and before it stood an old woman leaning upon a long leaden staff. Eh! my son, where art thou going by this road? Why, here not one little bird, not one little butterfly is to be heard, much less any little man of earth,” said Jezibaba to the prince. “Fly! if thy life be dear to thee; for when my son comes he will eat thee.” “Ah! not so, aged mother, not so!” entreated the prince. “Why, I have come to you for advice, to see if you could tell me anything about the hill of glass and the three citrons.” “About the hill of glass I have never heard, but wait until my son comes home, perhaps he will be able to tell you something. Why, I will stow thee away somewhere safely at once; thou shalt hide thyself under the broom, and thou shalt stay there so long on the watch as I do not summon you.”
The mountains re-bellowed, the castle shook again, and Jezibaba whispered to the prince that it was her son coming. “Fuj! Fuj! what a smell of man’s flesh; I am going to eat it,” roared Jezibaba’s son, while still at the door, and thumped on the ground with a great club of lead, so that the whole castle shook again. “Ach! not so, my son, not so!” said Jezibaba coaxingly; “Why, it is a beautiful youth who has come, and wishes to ask your advice about something.” “Oh! well, if he wishes to ask my advice, let him come here.” “Faith, he shall come, my son, but only if thou dost promise me that thou wilt not do anything to him.” “Well, I will not do anything to him, only let him come!”
The prince, under the broom, was shaking like an aspen, for he saw through the rods before him a giant to whose knees he scarcely reached. Happily he had now his life guaranteed, when Jezibaba bade him come out from under the broom. “Well, thou cockchafer, what art thou frightened of?” roared the ogre; “Whence art thou? What wouldst thou?” “Oh! as to what I want,” replied the prince, I have been wandering ever so long in these mountains and cannot find what I am looking for, and so I have come to thee to see if thou mightest not be able to tell me something about the hill of glass and the three citrons.” Jezibaba’s son wrinkled his brow, and after a little time said in a quieter voice: “About the hill of glass, nothing is to be heard here; but hie away to my brother of the castle of silver, perhaps he will be able to tell thee something. But stay, I will not let thee go away empty; mother, bring here the dumplings.” Old Jezibaba placed a large dish on the table, and her
