he eldest son of a mighty monarch was once walking alone in a field, which, as it was the depth of winter, happened to be covered with snow. He perceived a raven flying by, and shot him. The bird fell dead on the ground and the snow was sprinkled with his blood. The glossy black of his plumage, the dazzling white of the snow, and the red blood, formed a combination of colours which delighted the eyes of the prince. The impression did not pass away from his memory; the colours seemed perpetually to float before his eyes, and at length he conceived in his heart an intense desire to possess a wife who should be as rosy as that blood, as white as that snow, and have hair as black as the plumage of that raven.

One day as he sat profoundly musing on the object of his desires, a voice said to him:—"My prince, go travel into Marvel-land, and there in the centre of an immense forest you will find an apple-tree, bearing larger and fairer fruit than you have ever yet beheld; pluck three of the apples, but forbear to open them until you shall be again at home; they will present you with a bride exactly such as you covet."

Marvel-land was very remote from the prince's home, and very difficult of access, but nothing could deter him from undertaking the journey. He started forthwith, travelled over land and sea, and searched the forest with the utmost diligence, till at length he found the tree. He broke off three fine apples, and as, in the first transports of his joy, he could not resist the curiosity which urged him, he opened one of them on the spot. A lovely maiden came out of it so enchantingly fair, and so exactly corresponding to the image he had formed, that he was lost in admiration. But the maiden, so far from being well disposed towards him, gazed on him with looks of scorn, and bitterly reproaching him for having carried her off, vanished from his sight.

This great disappointment might naturally have reduced him to despair; but as he was of a disposition to be easily consoled, he soon comforted himself with the trust that the two remaining apples would give him compensation for his loss. Full of this sweet hope, he resolved not to open them until he should reach his own country. But even the saddest experience does not always suffice to enable us to resist temptation. The prince's impatience was stronger than his reason, and a second time he yielded to his desire of opening one of the remaining apples.

He was at that time on the sea, and as there is very little amusement to be had during a voyage on that element, perhaps very few persons would have acted otherwise than he did. He persuaded himself that if he caused the whole of the deck to be covered with an awning, the fair one could not escape him. He therefore opened the second apple, and as before, a maiden of unequalled beauty stood before him; she manifested the same displeasure as the former one, and notwithstanding the precautions he had taken, disappeared in like manner. But even these two experiences barely sufficed to render the prince prudent.

At length however he reached his native country, and on opening the remaining apple, a third maiden as lovely as the others, but far more gentle, appeared. He immediately married her, and they were the happiest couple in the world.

After a time he was obliged to go out to war against a neighbouring potentate, and thus to quit his beloved. The queen-mother, in whose power the young bride now found herself, had never approved the marriage. She caused her daughter-in-law to be murdered in a barbarous manner, flung the corpse into the moat that surrounded the castle, and to complete her guilty deed, she substituted for the unhappy queen a person who was entirely devoted to herself.

When the prince returned he was greatly astonished to find a wife so different from the one he had left. But the queen his mother assured him confidently that the person she presented to him was his wife. She did not attempt to deny the great alteration in her appearance, but she ascribed the transformation to the effect of magic.

In truth, the mode by which the prince had obtained his wife did give some appearance of probability to the queen's assertion, and at all events, whether from softness of disposition, or absence of distrust, the prince believed what he was told. But all was unavailing to make him forget his first passion. Night and day he mused upon the past, and would pass whole hours leaning against the window of his palace.

One day as he was thus musing in deep melancholy, he perceived in the castle moat a fish whose shining scales were red, white, and black. He was so struck by the sight that he never withdrew his eyes from the fish. The old queen, who considered this extraordinary attention to the fish as a consequence of his early passion, resolved to destroy every object that might tend to recall it to his memory. She therefore commanded the false princess to feign the most vehement longing to eat the very fish which had so attracted her husband's attention. He could not deny a request which in the opinion of all others was so innocent. The fish was caught, served at the table of the supposed princess, and the prince relapsed into his usual melancholy.

Not very long after he was comforted by the appearance of a tree which was red, white, and black. The tree was of an unknown genus, no one had planted it, nor sown any seed; it had suddenly grown up on the spot where the scales of the fish had been thrown away.

This fair tree gave the prince great pleasure and the queen equal displeasure; she at once resolved on its destruction in spite of the sad prince's remonstrances. It was uprooted and burnt; but from its ashes suddenly arose a magnificent palace constructed of red rubies, white pearls, and black ebony. The three colours which the prince so loved, produced now an enchanting effect. Long did he endeavour in vain to enter that fair palace; the gates remained fast closed, and at last he contented himself with incessantly contemplating it, and passed day after day in this occupation which recalled to him the object of his wishes.

His constancy was at last rewarded; the gates flew open; he entered the palace, and after traversing numerous apartments, he found in a small chamber his first wife whom he had so tenderly loved, and whose memory was so dear to him. She reproached him for having by his yielding disposition caused her so much suffering, but at the same time testified the vivid joy which she felt as she perceived that he was so deserving of the forgiveness she bestowed on him.

The happiness of the re-united pair was not again disturbed, and they lived together perfectly satisfied with their destiny.