Folk-Tales and Fables of Old Russia

This tale was quoted in a book I'm currently reading by John Crowley, The Translator. It says that this fable was printed in 1942 in a book called Folk-Tales and the Fables of Old Russia. I've tried to find it online but it might be out of print or not even exist.

Once, God and the Devil contended for Rus, and the Devil won. Going happily to collect his prize, the Devil found the way barred. God had decided that after all the Devil could not have the souls of the people. All else he could take from them, but not their souls. The Devil complained that it wasn't fair, and God admitted that (thank God) things aren't always fair. So the Devil set himself up in state, and demanded that the people of Rus come before him , and each deliver up to him the things he loved best. In his rage at having been cheated he was most exacting, and Death sat at his side and kept the books. The Devil took from the miser his money, from the Tsar his triple crown, from the Patriarch his staff, from the mother the love of her child. One by one they came before him and went away weeping and sorrowing. At length one young lad came before him who appeared to have little to yield up. The Devil demanded of him what he loved best, whatever it was. The boy pleaded to be spared; he offered to give the Devil anything else, even the sum of all that he had. Take his clothes and his hat; take his felt boots, and he will walk barefoot in the winter; take the sight of his eyes. No, the Devil wanted none of that; he would be put off with no substitutes. He wanted what the boy loved best. And what was it? At last the boy told the Devil what it was. A song? the Devil asked. It's my own, the boy said weeping. My very own song I have made. Well, the Devil said, let's have it. Begging and weeping were no use, and so at last the boy lifted his voice and sang. For a time everyone ceased bewailing to listen. The Devil listened, his clawed hand cupped behind his ear. Even Death held still to hear. Mine, said the Devil when the song was done. Mine forever and ever. Next! The boy hung his head in grief and went away. But not so long afterward, among the poor people of Rus from whom so much had been taken, that song began again to be heard. The boy had fooled the Devil, and had still kept what it was he had given away: for that's the way it is with a song, as everyone but the Devil knows. The boy sang the song in the deserted roadways and in the villages from which every beloved cow had been taken. And by and by, in the woods where no flower grew and in the empty churches and even in the desolate courts of the Tsar, the little song could be heard , a song about nothing that filled the eyes with tears and the throat with joy to hear. So the people of Rus had a song at least to comfort them in those days. But still life was very hard, since the Devil had taken every other thing that anyone loved away. And in the end, of course, one way and another, he got a good number of their souls as well.

 Wow! Anything I could say about this would take away from how awe-inspiring this is. I hope others enjoy it as much as me.

~Staci~