pray you, to what I am about to say. It has just struck me that it would be a grand thing to go to the sacred city of Kiev, and offer up thanksgivings to the Saints for their great kindness to me, and also to salute our well-beloved warrior, Prince Vladimir!"
His father and mother looked very sad indeed when they heard this; the idea of parting with their beloved son, even for a short time, was painful to them.
"Why must you leave us in our old age?" they said, their eyes dim with tears. "Why do you wish to forsake us, our darling son?"
Still Elie Muromitch begged and prayed them to bless him, and let him go. The parents at last consented; they gave him as great a blessing as they could, thus advising him at the same time,—
"Go, beloved son, straight to the sacred city of Kiev; but take care, and do not unnecessarily or unjustly offend any one on your way, or unreasonably shed Christian blood."
Elie Muromitch accepted the blessing, and promised to keep and follow the advice.
Out of the splendid town of Murom, out of the village of Karatchaev, rode our valiant hero, Elie Muromitch, magnificently attired, on his way to the sacred city of Kiev.
Now this journey to Kiev, from the town of Murom, was a very dangerous one, for after having gone through the wonderful town of Chernigov, which was on the way, there lay a straight road that had for the last thirty years or so been impassable, on account of a celebrated robber, Nightingale
