Free translation by Nadya N.aka Angel Mercury

(This is NOT the finished copy, I am definitely accepting editing suggestions!!!)

"CRIMSON SAILS"

By Russian author A.S. Green

Note from Translator: The original name of the girl, Asseil, was "Assol" (with a soft L sound). But as that did not sound very nice in English, I had to change it to something different, and only the word Asseil came to mind... The rest of the story is translated as accurately as possible.

Part 1 - PROPHECY

Longren, a sailor on the "Orion", a sturdy three-hundred-ton deadweight brig on which he served ten years, and to which he was attached to more than some sons are to their mothers, finally had to leave this duty.

It happened like this. On one of his rare returns home he did not see, as he always did from afar on the steps of his home, his wife Mary waving frantically then running towards him breathlessly. Instead, by the child's crib - a new object in Longren's little home - stood an excited neighbor.

"Three months I have cared for her, old man," she said. "Look at your daughter."

Turning pale, Longren bent down and saw an eight-month-old creature who was intently looking at his beard. Then he sighed, sat down, and started curling his moustache in concentration. The moustache was wet, like from rain.

"When did Mary pass away?" he asked.

The woman told him the sad tale, interrupting it with sweet coos to the little girl and reassurances that Mary is now in heaven. When Longren found out the details, heaven did not seem to him much brighter than a wooden shed, and he thought that the light of a simple lamp - if only the three of them were all here, together - would be an irreplaceable comfort to the woman who has passed on to an unknown world.

About three months back, things were going terribly for the young mother. From the money left by Longren, a good half went to caring for the health of herself and the newborn; finally the loss of the small, but necessary for life sum of money left Mary no choice but to ask to borrow money from Menners. Menners owned an inn, a shop, and was considered a rather rich man.

Mary went to him at six o'clock in the evening. At about seven a storyteller met her on the road to Lyss. A sobbing and distressed Mary told her that she is going to the city to deposit her wedding ring. She added that Menners was willing to give her money, but demanded her love in return. Mary did not agree.

"We don't even have a crumb of food to eat," she told her neighbor. "I'll visit the city, and me and the little girl will live somehow until my husband returns."

That evening was cold and windy; but the storyteller did not succeed in persuading Mary not to go to Lyss with the approach of night. "You'll get wet, Mary, it's already drizzling, and the wind looks like it will bring a storm."

There and back from the seaside village to the city was more than three hours of fast walking, but Mary did not listen to the storyteller's advice. "There is no family left which I had not borrowed bread, tea or flour from," she said. "I'll deposit the ring, end of story." She went and came back, but the next day she spent in bed with a fever and delirium; the weather and evening rain hit her hard with pneumonia - as said the town doctor, called in by the kind-hearted storyteller. A week later an empty spot was left on the bed, and the neighbor moved in to feed and care for the little girl. It wasn't too hard for her, a lonely widow. "Besides," she added, "it's boring without such a sweetie around."

Longren went to the city, quit his job, said farewell to his comrades and stayed to raise little Asseil. Until the girl learned to walk steadily, the widow lived in the sailor's home, acting as a mother for the little orphan. But just when Asseil stopped falling when walking through the door, Longren decidedly announced that from now on he will do everything for the girl himself, and, thanking the neighbor for her kindness, began the lonely life of a widower, concentrating all thoughts, hopes, love and memories on the little creature.

Ten years of a wanderer's life left him with very little money. He started working. Soon his toys appeared in the town stores - little skillfully crafted models of boats, motorboats, sailing ships, steamers - in a word, everything that he knew, and the character of the work partly replaced for him the noise of harbor life and the picturesque labor of sailing. This way Longren got enough to live on. Not very sociable by nature, after his wife's death he became even more withdrawn and alienated. He was sometimes seen at the inn but he never stayed, instead simply drank a glass of vodka by the stand and hurried to leave, dropping "yes", "no", "hello", "bye", "ok" to all appeals and nods of neighbors. He did not tolerate guests, and quietly made them leave not by force but by such hints and excuses, that the visitor had nothing left but to invent a reason why he could no longer stay.

He himself never visited anyone either; so a cold indifference laid between him and fellow countrymen, and if Longren's work - crafting toys - was less dependent on the village, he would feel the repercussions of such attitude more strongly. He bought materials and food in the city - Menners could not boast of even a matchbox bought from him by Longren. He did all house chores by himself, and patiently learned the difficult - especially for a man - art of raising a little girl.

Asseil was already five years old, and her father began to have a softer smile, glancing at her nervous, kind face, when, sitting on his lap, she worked on solving the mystery of a buttoned vest or hummed sailor songs - wild, screaming rhymes. Delivered by a child's voice, and often without the letter "r", these songs gave the impression of a dancing bear adorned with a blue ribbon. At that time an event happened, the shadow of which, falling on the father, also covered the daughter.

Spring came, early and severe, like winter but in another way. For three weeks, a strong north wind blew over the cold earth. Fishermen's boats, dragged out onto the shore, created a long row of dark keels, resembling the spines of enormous fish. No one dared to go out fishing in this weather. A person leaving his house was a rare sight on the only street of the village; the cold storm, rushing from the seashore hills into the emptiness of the horizon, made the "open air" into sheer torture. All the chimneys in Kaperna smoked from morning till night, their smoke fluttering over the steep roofs.

But these days of the northern wind lured Longren out of his warm little home more often than the sun which, in fair weather, draped an airy gold shawl over the sea and Kaperna. Longren came out onto the breakwater that was laid over long rows of piles, where, at the very end of it, for a long time he smoked his pipe, it being blown by the wind, watching how the bare floor of the sea smoked with gray foam, barely keeping up with the waves, whose rumbling race to the black, stormy horizon filled the space with herds of fantastic, long-maned creatures, rushing in unruly despair to a faraway consolation. Noises and moans, the wailing shots of enormous flying waves, and an almost visible flow of wind slashing the surroundings - its even run was was that strong - gave Longren's tired soul that dullness, that deafness that reduces grief to a vague sadness, equal in effect to a deep sleep.

On one of these days, Hin, Menners' twelve-year-old son, noticing that his father's boat was knocking against the piles and breaking its sides, told his father about it. The storm started not long ago; Menners forgot totake the boat onto the sand. He immediately went to the water, where he saw Longren at the end of the pier, standing with his back to him, and smoking. There was no one but the two of them on the shore. Menners walked to the middle of the breakwater, lowered himself into the furiously splashing water and untied the fall; standing in the boat, he began to make his way back to the shore, his hands holding on to the piles. He took no oars, and when he, staggering, missed grabbing onto the next pile, a strong gust of wind threw the bow of the boat away from the pier, in the direction of the ocean. Now even with the entire length of his body Menners could not reach even the closest pile. The wind and the waves, swaying the boat, carried it into the deadly open sea. Realizing the situation, Menners wanted to dive into the water and swim to safety, but his decision came late as the boat was already turning round and round about the end of the pier, where the considerable depth and the fury of the waves promised certain death. There was not more than ten yards of still safe distance between Longren and Menners, because on the pier, just under Longren's hand, hung a bundle of rope with a weight intertwined into one end. This mooring line hung there in case of a boat having to dock in stormy weather, and was thrown from the pier.

"Longren!" Menners yelled, scared to death. "Why are you just standing there? Can't you see I'm being carried away; throw me the line!"

Longren was silent, camly watching as Menners dashed about in the boat. Only his pipe was smoking more, and with hesitation he took it out of his mouth, so he could see what was happening better.

"Longren!" Menners called. "You can hear me, help me!"

But Longren did not utter a single word, as if he had not heard the desperate cry. He did not even shift from one foot to the other until the boat was so far off that Menners' screams hardly reached him. Menners wailed from horror, he adjured the sailor to run to the fishermen for help, promised money, cursed and threatened him. But Longren only came to the very end of the pier, just so he would not lose the tiny, leaping boat from sight. "Longren," the sound was muffled, as if coming from a person sitting on the roof to one inside a house, "Help me!" Then, taking in air deeply, so not a single word would be lost in the wind, Longren yelled:

"She was pleading just like this! Think about it while you still live, Menners, and never forget!"

Then the screams ended, and Longren went home. Asseil woke up and saw her father sittting before the dim lamplight in deep thought. Hearing the little girl's voice calling him, he approached her, kissed her and tucked her into her bed.

"Sleep, dear," he said, "it's a long time till morning."

"What are you doing?"

"I made a black toy, Asseil - sleep!"

 

The next day, gossip was in the air among the villagers, talking about Menners' disappearance, and on the sixth day he was brought back, spiteful and dying. His tale quickly flew to the neighboring villages. Menners was thrashed about till the evening; he was badly bruised by being thrown into the sides and bottom of the boat while fighting against the furious, never tiring waves, that threatened to throw the panic-stricken shop-keeper out into the open sea. He was picked up by the steamship "Lucretia", heading to Kasset. The chill and shock ended Menners' days. He lived slightly less than forty-eight hours, summoning all horrors and distasters that exist in reality and imagination upon Longren. Menners' story about how the sailor watched his death, refusing to help - expressive also because the dying man was breathing with difficulty and moaning - shocked the inhabitants of Kaperna. Not to mention that very few of them could remember an insult, even one worse than the one taken by Longren, nor could they grieve so strongly, as Longren grieved over the loss of Mary for the rest of his life. It was repulsive, incomprehensible to them, shocked them, that Longren was silent. Silently, until his very last words, sent after Menners, Longren stood, stood unmoving, strictly and quietly, like a judge, showing great contempt for Menners - more than hate was in his silence, and it was felt by everyone. If he was yelling, expressing his bitterness and triumph at the sight of Menners' despair by gestures or fussing about, the fishermen would have understood him. But he behaved differently than they did - he acted impressively, incomprehensibly and by doing this, set himself higher than others - in a word, did something that could not be forgiven. No one bowed to him anymore, no one reached out a hand, no one gave him a knowing, greeting glance. He was forever alienated from the everyday business of the village; boys, upon seeing him, yelled after him: "Longren drowned Menners!". He paid no attention. Just like, it seemed, that he did not notice how, in the inn or on the shore, the fishermen turned quiet in his presence, staying away from him like from one infected with the plague. The incident with Menners alienated Longren and his family completely from the villagers, creating a strong mutual hate, the shadow of which fell on Asseil.

The little girl was growing up without friends. The two or three dozens of children her age living in Kaperna - which was soaked in harsh family beginnings like a sponge with water, based on the unshakeable authority of the father and mother - were imitative, like all children in the world. They crossed little Asseil out forever from their sphere of their protection and attention. This happened gradually of course, by way of suggestions and shouts from the adults, and soon assumed the character of a horrible prohibition, and then, strengthened by idle talk and false rumors, grew into a deep fear of the sailor's home in the minds of the children.

Adding to that, Longren's isolated way of life freed the hysterical tongue of gossip. It was said that the sailor killed somebody somewhere, and that is the reason he is not accepted to serve on ships anymore, and he himself is gloomy and unsociable because he is "tormented by the pangs of a criminal consience". When playing, children chased Asseil away, if she came near they threw dirt at her and made fun of her, saying that her father ate human flesh, and now is engaging in the business of making fake money. One after another, her naive attempts at approaching them ended in bitter tears, bruises, scratches and other displays of public opinion. Finally, she stopped feeling offended, but sometimes she still asked her father:

"Tell me, why don't they like us?"

"Hey, Asseil," Longren said, "do they know how to love? You have to be able to love, and that's just what they can't do."

"What do you mean - be able to?"

"I mean this!" He took the girl up in his arms and warmly kissed the sad eyes, which closed in gentle delight.

Asseil's favorite entertainment was in evenings or on holidays - when her father, leaving bottles of glue, instruments and unfinished work, took off his apron and sat down to rest, pipe in his teeth - to climb into her father's lap and, turning in the gentle circle of her father's arm, touch different parts of toys, asking about their purpose. So began a peculiar, fantastic lecture abut life and people - a lecture in which, owing to Longren's previous way of life, chance, luck, coincidences, wondrous, amazing and extraordinary events were above all else. Longren, naming the various objects - ropes, sails, and other things of use on the sea - to the girl, gradually got carried away, switching from explanations to various episodes, in which the main role was played by the windlass, or the steering wheel, or a mast or some type of boat and so on, and from these separate illustrations he went to broad pictures of sea wanderings, intertwining superstition into reality, and reality into images of his fantasy. Here the tiger-like cat appeared - the messenger of shipwrecks, and the talking flying-fish - disobeying whose orders meant to lose one's way in the sea. Here was the Flying Dutchman with its raving crew, omens, ghosts, mermaids, pirates - in a word, all the fables that shorten a sailor's spare time in calm seas or in his favorite tavern. Longren also told of shipwreck survivors, of people who became wild and forgot how to speak, of mysterious treasure, rebelling convicts, and many other things that were listened to by the girl more closely than, perhaps, Columbus's first tale of a new world was listened to by people of his time. "Please daddy, tell some more," Asseil begged, when Longren became lost in thought and stopped. She fell asleep on her father's lap, her head full of wonderful dreams.

Also, to her, the appearance of the shop-man from the city toy store that eagerly bought Longren's work, was also a big and always material pleasure. To coax the father into selling for less, the shopkeeper always brought with him a handful of nuts, a sweet pastry, or an apple for the little girl. Longren usually asked for the normal price out of dislike for bargaining, but the shop-man lowered it. "Hey, I worked on this boat for a week," Longren said about the miniature twenty-foot boat, "Look how sturdy it is, how sea-worthy! This boat will hold fifteen men in any weather." The end result was that the girl's quiet fussing over her treat made Longren lose all will to argue. He gave in, and the shopkeeper, chuckling into his moustache, left with a basket full of sturdy, wonderfully crafted toys.

Longren did all of the housework by himself - he chopped firewood, brought water, heated the stove, cooked, washed and ironed clothes, and in addition still managed to work for money. When Asseil turned eight, her father taught her how to read and write. Sometimes he brought her along on trips to the city, and later even started sending her there alone - to borrow some money from the store or bring the merchandise. This wasn't often, even though Lyss was only four miles from Kaperna, but the road to it went through the forest - many things can scare a child in the forest, aside from physical danger. True, the likelihood of such danger was less, being this close to the city - but it wouldn't hurt to keep it in mind. So Longren gave her leave to go to the city only on nice days, in the morning, when the woods surrounding the road are full of pouring sunlight, flowers and silence, so phantoms of the imagination did not threaten Asseil's impressionable mind.

Once, in the middle of one such jouney to the city, the little girl sat down on the side of the road to eat a slice of pie for breakfast. Snacking, she looked over the toys; among them, two or three were a novelty to her - Longren made them during the night. One of them was a miniature racing yacht. This white vessel carried crimson sails, made from scraps of silk that Longren used to glue over quarters of steamships - toys for a rich customer. It seems that when he made the yacht, he could not find the right material for the sails, so he just used leftovers of crimson silk. Asseil was ecstatic. The fiery, cheerful color burned in her hand as bright as flames. The road was met by a forest brook, a bridge crossing it; on both sides of the road the brook continued into the forest. 'If I just let it swim for a little bit,' Asseil thought, 'it won't get wet, and I'll just let it dry afterwards.' Stepping into the forest beyond the bridge, going with the stream, the little girl carefully lowered the fascinating boat down into the water just near the shore. The sails sparkled with their crimson reflection in the clear water, the sunlight threaded through the material and trembled with a rose tint on the white pebbles on the bottom of the brook.

"Where did you come from, captain?" Asseil asked the imaginary person with an air of importance, immediately answering herself:

"I came... I came... from China."

"What did you bring?"

"I won't tell you."

"So, that's how it is, captain! Then I'll put you back in the basket."

Just as the captain was about to meekly tell her that he was joking and he's ready to show her an elephant, suddenly a quick part of the stream turned the bow of the yacht to the middle of the brook, and, just like a real one, it left the shore at full speed and sailed downstream. The scale of what was happening changed immediately: the brook seemed like an enormous river to the girl, and the yacht - a big, far away vessel, after which, almost falling into the water, Asseil reached her hands, scared and dumb-struck. 'The captain got scared,' she thought and ran after the sailing toy, hoping that somewhere it would hit the shore and stop. Hurriedly dragging the light but bothersome basket, the girl kept saying "Goodness! How could this happen?" Trying not to lose the beautiful, evenly floating triangle of sails from sight, she stumbled, fell and kept running.

Asseil had never been so deep in the woods before. She could not look around, consumed by the impatient wish to catch the toy - she had enough obstacles on her way as it was. The mossy trunks of fallen trees, holes, tall ferns, wild rosebushes, jasmine and hazel bushes were impeding her every step of the way. Getting over them, she became tired, stopping to catch her breath or brush away sticky spider-webs more and more often. When the shores began to be overgrown with reeds, Asseil almost lost the crimson glow of the boat from sight but, running around a bend in the stream, then she saw them again, steadily sailing away. Once she turned around, the enormousness of the forest behind her, with its multitude of colors, from the smoky columns of light in the canopy to dark rifts of thick gloom, greatly astonished the little girl. Momentarily becoming frightened, she remembered about the toy, and, releasing a loud "wheeeewww", raced after it as fast as she could.

About an hour passed in this unsuccessful and anxious chase, when, with surprise but also with relief Asseil saw that the trees in front of her parted, letting in the sight of the freely flowing sea, clouds and the edge of a yellow sand precipice, onto which she ran, nearly falling from fatigue. Here was the mouth of the brook, whose water was so shallow that the flowing blue of the stones was easily visible, disappearing into the waves coming from the opposing sea. From the low, stony precipice Asseil saw that by the stream, a man sat on a flat stone, with his back to her, and was examining the runaway yacht from all sides with the curiosity of an elephant who has caught a butterfly. Partly relieved by the fact that the boat is in one piece, Asseil crawled down the cliff and, coming close to the stranger, studied him with a curious stare, waiting for him to turn his head. But the strange man was so immersed in contemplating the forest surprise, that the girl had time to watch him and come to the conclusion that she had never seen anyone like him before.

But before her was no other than the wandering Aegle, known as a gatherer of songs, legends, stories and fairy-tales. His gray curly hair stuck out from under his straw hat, the gray blouse, tucked into blue pants, and tall boots gave him the appearance of a hunter; the white collar, tie, belt studded with the silver of pendants, cane and bag with a new nickel lock denounced a city-dweller. His face - if a nose, lips and eyes peeping out from a roughly growing beard and a thick, fiercely turned upwards moustache could be called a face - would look limply transparent, if it wasn't for his eyes. They were gray like sand, shining like clean steel with a look of courage and strength.

"Now give it to me," the girl said awkwardly, "You already played with it. How did you catch it?"

Aegle raised his head, dropping the yacht - so unexpected was Asseil's excited voice. The old man examined her for a minute, smiling and slowly sifting his beard through his large, sinewy hand. Her cotton dress, washed many times, barely covered the knees of the girl's thin, tanned legs. Her thick, dark hair, tied under a lacy head-scarf, fell out from under it and onto her shoulders. Asseil's every feature was expressively light and clear, like the flight of a swallow. Her dark eyes, with a hint of a sad question, seemed slightly older than her face, whose asymmetrical, soft oval was fanned with the kind of delicate tan, that was inherent to the healthy whiteness of the skin. Her small, half-opened mouth shone with a gentle smile.

"Well, I swear by the Grimm Brothers, Aesop and Andersen," Aegle said, glancing back and forth from the girl to the boat. "This is something extraordinary. Little plant! Is this yours?"

"Yes, I ran after it along the whole brook, I thought I'd die. It was here?"

"Right beside my feet. The shipwreck was caused by the fact that I, as a shore pirate, can give you this prize. The yacht, abandoned by the crew, was cast ashore by a nine-foot wave - between my left heel and the end of the walking-stick. What's your name, little one?"

"Asseil," the girl said, hiding the toy given by Aegle back in the basket.

"Wonderful," the old man continued his strange speech, never taking his eyes away, in the depths of which shone the smile of a friendly disposition. "I didn't need to know your name, really. How wonderful it is that is's so strange, so musical, like the whistle of an arrow or the murmur of a seashell. What would I have done if you had called yourself one of those eloquent but unbearably common names that are alien to the Beautiful Unknown? Moreover, I don't need to know who you are, who your parents are or where you live. Why ruin the charm? Sitting here, I was just comparing the plots of Finnish and Japanese stories... when suddenly the stream brought this yacht, and then you appeared... just the way you are. I, my dear, am a poet at heart - even though I've never written anything myself. What's in your basket?"

"Boats," Asseil said, shaking the basket. "Then a steamer, and three of these little houses with flags. Soldiers live in there."

"Splendid. You were sent to sell them. Along the way, you decided to play. You let the yacht float for a bit, and it ran away, isn't that right?"

"Did you see?" Asseil asked doubtfully, trying to remember if she said it before. "Did anyone tell you? Or did you guess?"

"I knew it."

"But how?"

"Because I'm the greatest wizard."

Asseil was confused, her tension crossed the boundary of fear at these words. The empty seashore, the silence, the frustrating adventure with the yacht, the old man's strange speech, his shining eyes, the majesty of his hair and beard started to seem to the girl like a mixture of realty and the supernatural. If Aegle made a grimace or shouted something at this point - the girl would rush off, crying and terrified. But Aegle, noticing how wide open her eyes were, made a sharp turn.

"You don't need to be scared of me," he said seriously. "Instead, I just wanted to talk to you." Only now he understood just what it was in the face of the girl that impressed him. 'The involuntary waiting for something beautiful, for blessed fate,' he decided. 'Oh, why was I not born a writer? What a wonderful subject!'

"Well," Aegle continued, attempting to round up this extraordinary situation (the tendency to create myths - a result of his everyday work - was stronger than the caution of dropping the seeds of a great dream onto unknown soil), "Well, Asseil, listen to me closely. I was in the village that you must be from - that is, Kaperna. I like stories and songs, and I sat in the village an entire day, trying to hear something no one has ever heard before. But your people don't tell fairy-tales. They don't sing songs. And if they do, they're about sly men and soldiers, with an eternal praise of fraud and cheating, these dirty, like unwashed feet, rude, like rumbling in the stomach, these short four-versed rhymes with a horrible plot... Wait, I got carried away. I'll start again."

Thinking for a little, he continued:

"I don't know how many years will pass, but one fairy-tale will blossom in Kaperna, one remembered for a long time. You will be grown up, Asseil. One morning, a crimson-colored sail will glow under the sun in the distant sea. The shining mass of the crimson sails of a white vessel will move, cutting through the waves, straight toward you. This amazing ship will sail quietly, without shouts or shots; a lot of people will gather on the shore, gasping in astonishment - you will be there too. The majestic ship, accompanied by beautiful music, will come close to the very shore; and a fine boat, with rugs, gold and flowers, will sail from it. the people on the shore will ask "Why did you come? Who are you looking for?" Then you will see a brave and handsome prince - he will be standing and reaching his hands out to you. "Hello, Asseil," he will say. "Far away from here I saw you in a dream, and I came to take you away forever to my kingdom. There you will live with me in a deep valley of roses. You will have everything you ever wished for, me and you will live together so peacefully and happily, that your soul will never know tears or sadness." He will put you into his boat, take you to his ship, and you will leave forever and come to a beautiful land, where the sun rises and where the stars will come down from the sky to greet you."

"This is all for me?" the girl asked quietly. Her serious eyes turned cheerful and shone with trust. A dangerous wizard would certainly never talk like that; she came closer. "Maybe it already came... the ship?"

"Not so soon," Aegle objected. "First of all, you'll be grown up, like I said. Then... well what can I say? It will happen. But what would you do if it did?"

"Me?" Asseil looked down intothe basket, but did not find anything that could serve as a sufficient reward. "I would love him," she said, then added quietly "if he doesn't hurt me."

"No, he won't hurt you," said the wizard, winking mysteriously. "He won't, I swear. Go now, little girl, and remember what I told you between two sips of aromatic vodka and thoughts about the songs of convicts. Go. Let there be peace to your fluffy little head!"

 

Longren was working in his little garden, digging round the potatoes. Raising his head, he saw Asseil, running to him with a joyful and impatient face.

"So, well, ah," she said, trying to regain her breathing, and holding on to her father's apron with both hands. "Listen, I'll tell you something... There on the seashore, really far away, there's a wizard..."

She started with the wizard and his fascinating prophecy. Her feverish thoughts interfered with her telling the story calmly. Then came a physical description of the wizard, and then - in the opposite order - the chase after the lost yacht.

Longren heard the girl out without interrupting, without a smile, and, when she finished, imagination quickly painted an old man with a bottle of vodka in one hand and the toy in another. He turned away, but, remembering that at great events in a child's life one must be serious and astonished, he ceremoniously nodded, adding:

"Yes, yes, by all the signs, it could be no other than a wizard. I would've liked to see him... But, when you go next time, please don't turn away from the road - it's easy to get lost in the woods."

Casting aside his shovel, he sat by a low branch fence and put the girl on his lap. Terribly tired, she kept trying to add more details, but the heat, excitement and weakness made her sleepy. Her eyes closed, her head lay on her father's supportive shoulder. One moment - and she would have flown away to the land of dreams, when, disturbed by sudden doubt, she suddenly sat up, eyes still closed, her little hands on Longren's vest, she asked loudly:

"What do you think, will the wizard's ship come for me or not?"

"It will," the sailor said calmly."If that's what you were told, then it will surely come true."

'She'll grow up and forget,' he thought. 'and for now... I can't take away a toy like this from you. In the future you will see many sails - not crimson, but dirty and rapacious. From far away, white and beautiful - from up close, torn and impudent. A traveler played a joke on my daughter. Well? Nice joke! Very nice! Look how tired you are - half a day in the deep woods. And about those crimson sails, think like me - you'll get crimson sails...'

Asseil slept. Longren, taking out his pipe with his free hand, smoked, and the wind carried the soke through the brances and into a bush growing on the outside of the fence. By the bush sat a young beggar, chewing a pie. The father and daughter's conversation put him in a good mood, and the smell of good tobacco made him want some.

"Master, won't you give a poor man something to smoke," he said through the fence. "My tobacco compared to yours is like poison."

"I'd give you some," Longren said quietly, "but the tobacco is in the other pocket. I'd rather not wake my daughter."

"Oh, how terrible! She'll wake up and go back to sleep, and a poor passer-by will have something to smoke."

"Well," Longren objected, "You're not without tobacco, and the child is tired. If you want, you can come later."

The beggar spit scornfully, raised his sack onto his stick, and said sarcastically:

"What a princess! You hammered all those outlandish ships into her head. Weirdo!"

"Listen," Longren hissed, "I just might wake her, but only so I can knock some sense into you. Get out!"

A half an hour later the beggar sat in the inn, at a table with a dozen fishermen. Behind them sat tall women with dense eyebrows and arms as thick as cobblestones, sometimes pulling their husbands by the sleeve or lifting a glass of vodka over them. The beggar, boiling with insult, recounted:

"And he didn't give me no smoke. 'When you get older', says he, 'a special red ship... after you. Cause it's your destiny to marry a prince. And believe that wizard.' But I say 'wake her up, give me some tobacco'. He chased me halfway down here!"

"Who? What? What's going on?" said the curious women. The fishermen, hardly turning their heads, grinned and explained:

"Longren and his daughter have gone wild, or just plain crazy, so this man says. Some wizard visited them, you see, and they're waiting - girls, don't miss this! - for some foreign prince, under red sails!"

Three days later, returning from the city shop, Asseil heard for the first time:

"Hey, you! Asseil! Looky here! There's red sails!"

The girl gave a start, involuntarily glancing at the open sea. Then she turned in the direction of the exclamations - there, twenty feet from her, a group of boys stood. They made faces at her, sticking their tongues out. Sighing, the girl hurried home.