The King wept bitter tears.

“I see,” he said, “I have no friends about me in the palace.  My soldiers cannot, my servants cannot, and my boyars and wise men will not, bring back my three sweet maids, whom I love better than my kingdom.”

And with that he sent heralds throughout the kingdom to announce the news, and to ask if there were none among the common folk, the moujiks, the simple folk like us, who would put his hand to the work of rescuing the three lovely princesses, since not one of the boyars and wise men was willing to do it.

Now, at that time in a certain village lived a poor widow, and she had three sons, strong men, true bogatirs and men of power.  All three had been born in a single night:  the eldest at evening, the middle one at midnight, and the youngest just as the sky was lightening with the dawn.  For this reason they were called Evening, Midnight, and Sunrise.  Evening was dusky, with brown eyes and hair; Midnight was dark, with eyes and hair as black as charcoal; while Sunrise had hair golden as the sun, and eyes blue as morning sky.  And all three were as strong as any of the strong men and mighty bogatirs who have shaken this land of Russia with their tread.

As soon as the King’s word had been proclaimed in the village, the three brothers asked for their mother’s blessing, which she gave them, kissing them on the forehead and on both cheeks.  Then they made ready for the journey and rode off to the capital—­Evening on his horse of dusky brown, Midnight on his black horse, and Sunrise on his horse that was as white as clouds in summer.  They came to the capital, and as they rode through the streets everybody stopped to look at them, and all the pretty young women waved handkerchiefs at the windows.  But the three brothers looked neither to right nor left but straight before them, and they rode to the palace of the King.

They came to the King, bowed low before him, and said,—­

“May you live for many years, O King.  We have come to you not for feasting but for service.  Let us, O King, ride out to rescue your three princesses.”

“God give you success, my good young men,” says the King.  “What are your names?”

“We are three brothers—­Evening, Midnight, and Sunrise.”

“What will you have to take with you on the road?”

“For ourselves, O King, we want nothing.  Only, do not leave our mother in poverty, for she is old.”

The King sent for the old woman, their mother, and gave her a home in his palace, and made her eat and drink at his table, and gave her new boots made by his own cobblers, and new clothes sewn by the very sempstresses who were used to make dresses for the three daughters of the King, who were the loveliest princesses in the world, and had been carried away by the whirlwind.  No old woman in Russia was better looked after than the mother of the three young bogatirs and men of power, Evening, Midnight, and Sunrise, while they were away on their adventure seeking the King’s daughters.