On the shore of the sea the young archer reined in the horse of power, and the heavy hoofs of the horse sank in the sand.  He shaded his eyes and looked out over the blue water, and there was the Princess Vasilissa in a little silver boat, rowing with golden oars.

The young archer rode back a little way to where the sand ended and the green world began.  There he loosed the horse to wander where he pleased, and to feed on the green grass.  Then on the edge of the shore, where the green grass ended and grew thin and the sand began, he set up the shining tent, with its silver hangings and its gold embroidered roof.  In the tent he set out the tasty dishes and the rich flagons of wine which the Tzar had given him, and he sat himself down in the tent and began to regale himself, while he waited for the Princess Vasilissa.

The Princess Vasilissa dipped her golden oars in the blue water, and the little silver boat moved lightly through the dancing waves.  She sat in the little boat and looked over the blue sea to the edge of the world, and there, between the golden sand and the green earth, she saw the tent standing, silver and gold in the sun.  She dipped her oars, and came nearer to see it the better.  The nearer she came the fairer seemed the tent, and at last she rowed to the shore and grounded her little boat on the golden sand, and stepped out daintily and came up to the tent.  She was a little frightened, and now and again she stopped and looked back to where the silver boat lay on the sand with the blue sea beyond it.  The young archer said not a word, but went on regaling himself on the pleasant dishes he had set out there in the tent.

At last the Princess Vasilissa came up to the tent and looked in.

The young archer rose and bowed before her.  Says he,—­

“Good-day to you, Princess!  Be so kind as to come in and take bread and salt with me, and taste my foreign wines.”

And the Princess Vasilissa came into the tent and sat down with the young archer, and ate sweetmeats with him, and drank his health in a golden goblet of the wine the Tzar had given him.  Now this wine was heavy, and the last drop from the goblet had no sooner trickled down her little slender throat than her eyes closed against her will, once, twice, and again.

“Ah me!” says the Princess, “it is as if the night itself had perched on my eyelids, and yet it is but noon.”

And the golden goblet dropped to the ground from her little fingers, and she leant back on a cushion and fell instantly asleep.  If she had been beautiful before, she was lovelier still when she lay in that deep sleep in the shadow of the tent.

Quickly the young archer called to the horse of power.  Lightly he lifted the Princess in his strong young arms.  Swiftly he leapt with her into the saddle.  Like a feather she lay in the hollow of his left arm, and slept while the iron hoofs of the great horse thundered over the ground.