Father Frost

In a certain village lived an old man and his second wife, a wicked stepmother who had one daughter of her own and a stepdaughter from the old man's first wife. The stepdaughter, a kind and humble girl named Dasha, was treated cruelly. The jealous stepmother made Dasha do all the house chores and sent her out in frigid weather scantily clad, hoping she would wither away. Meanwhile her own daughter, Anyuta, idled about and grew spoiled.

One winter, the stepmother decided to be rid of Dasha for good. She nagged her aging husband: "Take your daughter out into the woods, where the cold is thickest, and leave her there. I don't want her under my roof another day!" The old man wept, for he loved Dasha, but he feared his harsh wife. He put his shivering daughter on a sled, took her deep into the snowy forest, and left her beneath a tall oak tree. The girl, abandoned in the howling cold, prayed quietly and tried to stay warm.

Before long, Morozko – Father Frost himself – came spiraling through the trees, leaping from pine to pine with a crackling sound. He was a mighty winter spirit, an old man of ice. From high above, he noticed the lovely young girl below. "Ho ho! I sense a human in my forest," Morozko chuckled. Leaping nearer, he blew a freezing wind around Dasha. The cold was bitter, but the girl, teeth chattering, remained polite. As Morozko approached, he called out: "Are you warm, maiden?" "Warm, warm, dear Frost," Dasha managed to reply respectfully, though she was nearly frozen. Morozko was pleased by her courtesy despite her suffering. He descended and gently wrapped a fur coat around her shoulders. A little later, he circled back and asked again, "Are you warm now, dear one?" She, almost numb, still replied, "Warm, warm am I, Father Frost – thanks to you." Morozko admired the girl's kind heart and endurance. He made a rich fire appear to warm her and laid out fine blankets. Finally, Morozko brought ornate chests filled with gifts – beautiful silver and gold ornaments and warm robes. Dasha gratefully climbed into one of the magically summoned sleighs, and Morozko whisked her back home with the treasure.

Imagine the stepmother's surprise when Dasha returned alive and well, dressed in sable furs and carrying chests brimming with jewels! The old woman's eyes grew round with greed. "Hmm," she thought, "if my scrawny stepdaughter got such a reward from Father Frost, what might my own darling receive?" That same day, the stepmother took her pampered daughter Anyuta to the same oak in the woods and left her there, expecting Morozko to bestow even greater riches.

✦An illustration from the tale of Father Frost✦

Anyuta, however, was not at all like her polite stepsister. As daylight faded, Morozko came bounding through the trees. He heard the rude girl grumbling to herself and stomping her feet angrily. Intrigued, Morozko alighted nearby and blew an icy gust. The spoiled girl cursed the cold. Then Morozko appeared and inquired, "Are you warm, young maiden?" "Warm? Are you blind, old man? I'm perished with cold, you fool!" snapped Anyuta. Morozko frowned at such a nasty reply. He tapped his staff – and no fire came, only a sharper cold. After a while he asked again, through a chilling wind, "Maiden, are you warm?" She shouted, "Oh be quiet! I'm freezing, you moron!" At this, Morozko scowled. He decided this ill-tempered girl deserved no kindness. By morning, the vain Anyuta had frozen into a still statue, ice on her hair and lashes – Father Frost had chilled her to the bone.

When the stepmother came looking, hoping to find her daughter laden with riches, she found instead Only cold silence under the oak. There lay Anyuta, her lifeless form covered in rime. The wicked woman wailed and brought her daughter's body home, but it was too late. Her cruelty had brought its own punishment. As for the gentle Dasha, she lived on in comfort and eventually married a good man from the village. She remained thankful for Morozko's gifts and never forgot to leave a bowl of porridge outside every New Year's morning as an offering for Father Frost – who surely watched over the kind and humble in return.