Once upon a time, across seventeen countries, there was an ugly old witch. This witch once went out into the meadow, and as she walked she found a pearl in the grass. She picked up the pearl, took it home, but when she got home, the little pearl had grown as big as an egg.
The witch wondered at this, she couldn't imagine how it could be, not even in her devilish mind. She put the pearl in my almary and waited for it to grow bigger. And indeed it did grow bigger, for in less than an hour or two a beautiful little girl popped out of the pearl.
The witch was happy, she named the little girl Pearl, held her and raised her as if she were her own. But she did not do this out of true love, she thought of other things with her wretched soul. He thought that when she grew up to be a great lady, he would shed her blood, and rejuvenate himself with her blood. Time went by, and Pearl grew into a great maiden, and the witch decided to give her another year, and then kill her.
It happened once that Pearl went to the brook to fetch water, and just then a huntsman passed by. He took a great fancy to Pearl, and even Pearl took a great fancy to the huntsman. They walked home, and there the lad asked the witch to marry Pearl.
- "My boy," said the witch, "the price of this girl is high! Bring me ten hundred gold pieces, and you may take her with God's fame.
He was a poor hunter, and never had a pound of gold in his whole family, let alone ten hundredweight. He went away in great sorrow, he went, he went through the field, he went into the woods, he knew not where he went. As he wandered through the woods, a golden beetle suddenly flew on the back of his hand. The lad looks at the beetle and sighs bitterly:
- Oh, my God, my God, even this vile bugger has a cute body!
The beetle is ringing:
- Don't mope, you poor hunter, I know what's wrong with you. You need ten hundredweight of gold, without it they won't give you Pearl. I'll get it for you.
Then the lad's heart was broken with grief, but he laughed so that the forest rang with his laughter.
- "All right, all right," said the little beetle, "laugh, you'll see I'm not joking. Go and sit down on the bank of that stream and wait for me.
The beetle flew away and the lad sat down on the bank of the stream. Suddenly, behold, so many golden beetles came down the stream that the ground shone yellow, and the sea of beetles pulled and dragged ten great golden bars, each bar a hundredweight.
They took him to the bank of the stream and rolled him into the stream, so that no one else would see him while he was looking for wagons. The lad's eyes were wide open, and he could not even thank the beetles for the gold; but they did not wait to be thanked, and with a great buzzing and buzzing they flew away.
Meanwhile it was getting dark, and the lad lay down on the bank of the stream. He thought he would not find a cart at night, and in the morning he would go into the village and fetch a hundred. But as soon as he fell asleep, the witch went and saw the ten golden sticks in the stream, and she took hold of herself and dropped the juice of seven kinds of grass into the stream, and the ten golden sticks fell to pieces, and all stuck to the bellies of the fish.
The lad wakes up in the morning, looking for the goldfish, he can't see any, he looks at the fish, and their bellies are all gold. The lad is angry, he catches a fish and shouts at it in a terrible rage:
- How dare you steal my gold?!
The fish will sound:
- Don't hurt me, you hunter, we didn't steal your gold, the old witch has smeared it on our bellies. But don't worry, we'll be a great help to you. I am the son of the King of the Fish, and if you want anything, come and tell me.
What could the hunter do but let the fish go, he could not take back the gold from them: he went back to the witch in great sorrow, and said:
- Well, old mother, I did what I wished, I had ten hundredweight of gold, but someone put it on the belly of the fish.
The old witch pretended to pity and feel sorry for the hunter, and said:
- But don't be sad, my son. If you couldn't bring the gold, try something else. Before that, five hundred years ago, I dropped a pearl in the stream, and if you find it and bring it here, I will give you the pearl.
The lad goes straight to the woods, to the bank of the stream, calls the fish-prince, tells him what the witch wants.
- 'For if he has indeed dropped it in the stream,' said the fish-prince, 'do not grieve, for I will seek it out.
At once he told the fish, and before an hour had passed, they had brought the pearl, even though it was already a fathom off the bottom of the water. The hunter was glad, but how glad he was! He ran through the woods, but from nowhere a girl came running to him and called to him:
- Do you hear me, you hunter's lad, put that pearl on a string, hide it in your bosom, and then beware lest somewhere on the way you be surprised by a dream, for your pearl will be stolen!
The girl said no more, not a word, and disappeared from his sight. And he took her advice, put the pearl on a string, and put it in his bosom. But the old witch, sitting in a tree in the form of an owl, saw what the lad was doing.
All of a sudden, he created a beautiful rose tree in the middle of the road where the lad had to pass, and the smell of that rose tree made the lad so sleepy that he could go no further. He lay down under a tree and fell asleep.
When she woke up, the pearl was gone: the witch had taken it from her bosom. Oh, my lord, mourned the poor hunter, he really did not know what to do now. He went on his way through the woods, and again the girl who had first given him the good advice came in front of him.
- You're moping, aren't you, hunter?
- Oh, how can I grieve, they have stolen the pearl from my bosom.
- I knew it, but as it is, so it is, now do not fret about the pearl, but run as fast as your legs will carry you to Pearl, for know that the old witch is not her mother, and that the other witches are gathering at her house to take her blood and rejuvenate themselves with her blood.
He ran through the bushes and ditches, and indeed, when he came to the courtyard, the witches were holding Pearl, grinding the knife to draw her blood. But the huntsman also drew his sword, He did not see whom he cut, nor where he cut: all that ran not away he cut down.
Then he took Pearl's hand and led her into the woods, into his little house, and they swore an oath, and they are still alive today, if they are not dead.
(Elek Benedek: Hungarian tale- and mythology Volume 3)
