“It is not far to seek, my luck. When you get up tomorrow morning, stand at the gates and buy the first thing that meets you and give it to me.”

“Very well, my son.”

So next day the father got up very early, stood outside the gates, and the first thing that met him was a peasant who was selling a sorry, scabby foal⁠—mere dog’s meat. So the merchant bargained for it and got it for a silver rouble, took the foal into the courtyard and put it into the stable.

Then the merchant’s son asked him, “Well, bátyushka , what have you found as my luck?”

“I went out to find it, and it turned into a very poor thing.”

“Well, so it really had to be: whatever luck the Lord has given us we must use.”