The Dar of Vasyllia had three sons, none of whom could find suitable brides. So, he ordered them to shoot arrows into the wind. Wherever their arrows landed, there they would find a wife. The eldest son’s arrow landed in the courtyard of the richest merchant’s house. His daughter was famed for her beauty. The second son’s arrow landed in the garden of the high priest’s house. His daughter was famed for her virtue. The third son’s arrow landed in a swamp. An old hag lived there, famed for her ugliness. The third son complained, but his father ordered him wed. On the wedding night, disgusted with his bride, he threw her into the hearth-fire to die. But she came out of it with only her hag’s skin burned off. Underneath was a beauty that no story can relate, no pen can describe. “You could hav
