At the gate of the palace his nurse , old Birscha , was waiting for him eagerly . ` Ah , Petru , my son , I knew you would have to come back , ' she cried . ` You did not set about the matter properly . ' ` How ought I to have set about it ? ' asked Petru , half angrily , half sadly . ` Look here , my boy , ' replied old Birscha . ` You can never reach the spring of the Fairy of the Dawn unless you ride the horse which your father , the emperor , rode in his youth . Go and ask where it is to be found , and then mount it and be off with you . ' Petru thanked her heartily for her advice , and went at once to make inquiries about the horse . ` By the light of my eyes ! ' exclaimed the emperor when Petru had put his question . ` Who has told you anything about that ? It must have been that old witch of a Birscha ? Have you lost your wits ? Fifty years have passed since I was young , and who knows where the bones of my horse may be rotting , or whether a scrap of his reins still lie in his stall ? I have forgotten all about him long ago . ' Petru turned away in anger , and went back to his old nurse . ` Do not be cast down , ' she said with a smile ; ` if that is how the affair stands all will go well . Go and fetch the scrap of the reins ; I shall soon know what must be done . ' The place was full of saddles , bridles , and bits of leather .
Petru picked out the oldest , and blackest , and most decayed pair of reins , and brought them XXXXX the old woman , who murmured something over them and sprinkled them with incense , and held them out to the young man .
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