Koło Króla stała karczma, co się zapadła. W tej karczmie grywał Zawadzki.

Zajeżdża raz przed karczmę kareta, zaprzężona w czarne konie. Wyszedł z niej pan i godzi muzykanta na wesele. Od razu dał mu dużo pieniędzy i zawiózł przed dwór.

Tam było dużo różnego państwa. Tam grał Zawadzki, ale ciekawy był, czemu wszyscy tańcownicy latali do stołu i dziub palcem w jakąś maść. Tą maścią oni pocierali sobie oczy.

Muzykant myśli sobie: może i ja bym se tak potarł? Już nad ranem wszyscy gdzieś polecieli, a on prędko sobie potarł, ale jedno (bał się trzeć obu, żeby nie oślepł całkiem). Co spojrzy tym okiem, co sobie nie potarł, widzi, że ludzie tańcują, a co spojrzy drugim – tylko się trzęsą. Zawadzki bał się, ale czekał, co też to będzie z nim.

Rano go diabły odwiozły do karczmy, a on zaraz zaczął uciekać. Jeden diabeł dogonił go przyjrzał mu się, pazurami wydłubał mu oko, to posmarowane maścią.

Zawadzki był ślepy na to oko do śmierci.

„Literatura Ludowa”, Nr 2-3, rok IV, Warszawa 1960

opowiedział Jan Pietrzak ze wsi Huta koło Łukowa, spisała Jadwiga Biaduń

The Devil’s Wedding at Huta Dąbrowa

Long ago, near the village of Król, there stood an old roadside inn in Huta Dąbrowa. Local people claimed that strange things happened there after dark. Some even said that the inn eventually sank into the earth because of the evil that had passed through it.

Among the regular visitors was a traveling musician named Zawadzki.

One evening, a mysterious carriage pulled by jet-black horses arrived outside the inn.

A well-dressed stranger stepped out and offered Zawadzki an unusually large amount of money to play music at a wedding celebration.

The offer seemed too good to refuse.

The musician climbed into the carriage and was taken deep into the countryside to a grand manor illuminated by candlelight.

Inside, dozens of elegantly dressed guests danced, laughed, and celebrated late into the night.

At first, everything seemed normal.

Then Zawadzki noticed something unusual.

Again and again, the guests approached a small table, dipped their fingers into a dark ointment, and rubbed it onto their eyelids before returning to the dance floor.

The behavior puzzled him.

As dawn approached and no one was watching, he secretly dipped a finger into the ointment and rubbed it onto one eye. He dared not use both.

Almost immediately, the world changed.

When he looked through his untreated eye, he saw noblemen and ladies dancing.

But when he looked through the eye touched by the ointment, the elegant guests disappeared.

In their place stood devils.

The ballroom was filled with horned creatures twisting and leaping around the room.

Terrified, Zawadzki continued playing, pretending that he had seen nothing.

At sunrise, the celebration ended.

The black carriage returned him to the inn.

The moment he stepped outside, he ran.

But one of the devils caught him before he could escape.

The creature stared directly into his face and instantly realized what he had done.

With a single swipe of its claws, it tore out the eye that had seen through the disguise.

Zawadzki survived, but he was blind in that eye for the rest of his life.

And ever since, the people around Huta Dąbrowa have told the story as a warning:

Some secrets are not meant for human eyes.

Original source: Jadwiga Biaduń recorder. “Literatura Ludowa,” nos. 2–3, vol. IV (Warsaw, 1960). Tale narrated by Jan Pietrzak of Huta near Łuków.
Translated into English by Karolina Zabielska