FOOTNOTES:

“True; yet we think such thoughts, and though I may no longer feel any dread now, yet I remember how I felt when I was still an innocent boy.”

“Well, I don’t suppose our lot will be of the best,” said Ezekiel. “I asked a schoolmaster once, and he told me that after death all hearts were weighed, to see how heavily they were laden with sins. The lightest rise up, but the heavy ones sink down, and methinks our stones will be of tolerable weight.”

“Yes, truly,” replied Peter; “and even now it often makes me uneasy to feel my heart so careless and indifferent when I think of such matters.”

So they talked; but on the following night Peter heard the well-known voice whisper in his ear, five or six times: “Peter, get thee a warmer heart.”

Still he felt no remorse at the thought of having killed Lisbeth; but when he replied, in answer to the servants’ inquiries, that his wife was away on a journey, he thought within himself: “What may that journey be?”

He went on thus for six days, always hearing the voice by night, and by day always thinking of the wood-spirit and his terrible threat; but on the seventh morning he sprang from his bed, crying, “So be it, then; I will try whether I can get me a warmer heart, for this unfeeling stone in my breast makes life weary and desolate to me.” He hastily put on his Sunday clothes, mounted his horse, and rode to the “Pine-thicket.”

On reaching the spot where the trees begin to stand closer together, he dismounted, made fast his horse, and began, with a rapid step, to ascend the hill. When he reached the top,and stood beneath the great pine, he raised his voice and repeated:—

“O Treasure-Keeper in the forest green,Thine age is many hundred years—this landIs all thine own, wherever pine-trees stand;By Sunday-children only art thou seen.”

“O Treasure-Keeper in the forest green,

Thine age is many hundred years—this land

Is all thine own, wherever pine-trees stand;

By Sunday-children only art thou seen.”

Then the little Glass-man came forth, looking, not genial and friendly as before, but sad and gloomy; he wore a coat all of black glass, and a long mourning-band fluttered from his hat. Peter knew full well for whom he was mourning.

“What wilt thou of me, Peter Munk?” he asked in a hollow voice.

“I have yet one wish left, Master Treasure-keeper,” said Peter, with downcast eyes.

“Can hearts of stone still wish?” asked the other. “Thou hast all that thy wicked mind can require, and it can hardly be that I may fulfil any wish of thine.”

“Yet you promised me three wishes, and I still have one left.”

“But I can deny it, if it is a foolish one,” said the wood-spirit. “However, let be; I will hear what it is.”

“Then take away this dead stone, and give me back my living heart,” said Peter.

“Did I make the bargain with thee?” asked the little Glass-man. “Am I Dutch Michael, who gives riches and cold hearts? Yonder, with him, must thou go seek for thy heart.”

“Alas! he will never give it me back,” replied Peter sorrowfully.

“I pity thee, wicked though thou art,” said the little man after some thought. “And since thy wish was not afoolish one, I cannot, at least, deny thee my help. Listen, then. Thou canst never get back thy heart by force, yet by cunning thou mayst, and without much difficulty either, perhaps; for Michael is still only foolish Michael, after all, though he thinks himself very clever. Therefore go straight to him, and do as I bid thee.” And now he gave Peter full instructions, and handed him a little cross of pure glass. “He cannot endanger thy life,” he concluded, “and he will let thee go free directly thou shalt hold this before him, if thou dost only pray the while. Then, if thou hast got thy desire, come back to me here.”

Peter Munk took the cross, made sure that all the little man’s words were thoroughly fixed in his mind, and went his way to Dutch Michael’s dwelling-place. He called his name three times, and the giant stood before him directly.

“Thou hast killed thy wife,” said he, with a dreadful laugh. “Well, I should have done as much; she was giving all thy wealth away to beggars. But thou wilt have to leave the country for a while, for there will be a stir made when she is not to be found; and thou wilt need money for the journey, and art come to fetch it?”

“Thou hast guessed rightly,” answered Peter; “only it must be a large sum this time, for it is a long way to America.”

Michael went first, and brought him down to his house; there he opened a chest full of gold, and took out roll after roll of it. While he was counting it out on the table, Peter began:—

“Thou art a cunning trickster, Michael, to have taken me in with that tale of my having a stone in my breast, and of thy having got my heart!”

“And is it not the truth?” asked Michael in surprise; “dost thou feel thy heart, then? Is it not like ice? Dost thou know fear, or sorrow, or remorse?”

—“Thou hast stopped the beating of my heart, perhaps, but I have it just as usual in my breast. And Ezekiel too; he told me that thou hadst taken us both in. Thou art not the fellow to be able to tear a man’s heart out of his breast like that, unnoticed and without danger. It would take a sorcerer to do that.”

“I swear to thee,” cried Michael angrily, “that thou, and Ezekiel, and all the rich folk who have made a bargain with me, have just such cold hearts as I showed thee, and your real hearts are here in my closet.”

“Dear, dear! how the lies do slip from thy tongue, to be sure!” laughed Peter. “Go and tell that tale elsewhere. Dost think I have not seen dozens of such conjuring tricks on my travels? Those hearts in thy chamber there are sham ones, made of wax. Thou art a rich fellow, I allow; but thou art no sorcerer.”

Then the giant grew enraged, and threw open the chamber door.

“Come in and read all these labels—that one yonder, see, is Peter Munk’s heart. Dost thou mark how it quivers? Canthat, too, be done with wax?”

“And yet it is of wax,” answered Peter. “A real heart does not throb like that, and besides, I have mine still in my breast. Nay, thou art no sorcerer!”

“But I will prove it to thee,” cried the other, more angrily still; “thou shalt feel for thyself that it is thine own heart.”

He lifted it from the jar, tore open Peter’s jerkin, pulledthe stone from his breast, and held it before him. Then taking the real heart, he breathed upon it, and put it carefully into its place—and immediately Peter felt how it beat, and could rejoice that he had it once more.

He lifted it from the jar, tore open Peter’s jerkin, pulled the stone from his breast, and held it before him.

“How dost thou feel now?” asked Michael, smiling.

“In truth, thou wert right,” answered Peter, beginning carefully to draw the cross from his pocket. “I would never have believed that any one could do such a thing.”

—“No, indeed! And so thou seest that I am a sorcerer after all. But come now, I will put the stone back again.”

“Gently, Master Michael,” cried Peter, stepping back and holding out the cross towards him. “Mice are caught with lard, and this time ’tis thou art the dupe.” And he straightway took to repeating all the prayers he could think of.

Then Michael began to grow smaller and smaller, and dropped to the ground, where he writhed to and fro like a worm, moaning and groaning. And all the hearts round about began to quiver and to throb, so that it sounded like a watchmaker’s workshop. But Peter was filled with dread, and an awe-struck feeling crept over him; he ran as fast as he could from the room and from the house, and, urged by fear, climbed rapidly up the face of the cliff, for he could hear that Michael had risen again, and was stamping and raging after him, sending out terrible curses the while. As soon as he reached the top of the cliff, he hurried towards the “Pine-thicket.” As he went, a fearful storm arose, and the bolts of lightning fell to right and left of him, shattering the trees; but he held on his way, and came in safety to the domain of the little Glass-man.

His heart was beating joyfully, and that merelybecauseit beat. But now he looked back with horror upon his past life—it seemed to him as terrible as the thunderstorm, that had laid bare the noble woods behind him. He thought of Mistress Lisbeth, his good and lovely wife, whom he hadmurdered out of avarice, and he appeared to himself as the very scum and offscouring of mankind. He was weeping bitterly when he reached the little Glass-man’s mountain-top.

The Treasure-keeper was sitting under the fir-tree smoking a little pipe, yet he looked more cheerful than before.

“Why art thou weeping, Coal-Peter?” he asked. “Hast thou not got thy heart back again? Is the cold one still in thy breast?”

“Alas, sir!” sighed Peter, “while I yet carried the cold heart within me, I never wept—mine eyes were as dry as the fields in August; but now my own, old heart is like to break, because of what I have done. I have driven out my debtors into want and misery—I have set my dogs upon the sick and the poor—and you know yourself how my whip fell uponherfair forehead!”

“Thou hast been a great sinner, Peter,” said the little man. “Riches and idleness corrupted thee, till thy heart turned to stone, and could no longer be touched by joy or sorrow, pity or remorse. But repentance makes amends, and if I could only be sure that thou dost truly grieve over thy past life, I might very likely still be able to do something for thee.”

“I want nothing more,” answered Peter, and his head sank sorrowfully upon his breast. “It is all over with me; I can never be happy again as long as I live. What shall I do all alone in the world? My mother will never forgive me the great wrong I have done her, and perhaps, indeed, I have already brought her to her grave, monster that I am! And Lisbeth, my wife! Do thou rather strike me dead, too, Master Treasure-keeper, and let my wretched life end at once.”

“So be it,” answered the little man; “if thou wilt not have it otherwise, it shall be done. I have my axe here at hand.” He took his pipe quietly from his mouth, knocked the ashes from it, and put it by. Then he stood slowly up, and went behind the pine-trees. But Peter flung himself down weeping upon the grass, and awaited the death-stroke patiently, for his life was worth nothing more to him.

After a while he heard light footsteps behind him, and thought: “Now he is coming.”

“Look up once more, Peter Munk,” called the little man.

He wiped the tears from his face, and turned round, and see! there were his mother and Lisbeth, his wife, looking at him with kind and loving eyes. Peter sprang to his feet, bewildered with joy.

“Art thou not dead, then, Lisbeth?” he gasped. “And thou art here too, mother, and hast forgiven me?”

“They will both forgive thee,” said the little Glass-man, “because thou dost truly repent—and all shall be forgotten. Go home now to thy father’s hut, and be a charcoal-burner as before; if thou art kind and honest, thou wilt honour thy calling, and thy neighbours will love and respect thee more than if thou hadst ten coffers full of gold.”

So spoke the little Glass-man, and bade them farewell; and with thanks and praise upon their lips, the three went home together.

The rich Peter’s fine house was no longer standing; the lightning had struck it and burnt it to the ground, with all its treasures; but the hut that had been his father’s was not far off. Thither they turned their steps, and even this heavy loss did not trouble them much. But what was theiramazement when they reached the hut, and found in its stead a comfortable peasant’s house! Everything in it was simple, but good and clean.

“Our kind little Glass-man has done this!” cried Peter.

“How beautiful!” said Mistress Lisbeth; “and I feel much more at home here than in that large house with all those servants.”

From this time forth Peter Munk became a worthy and industrious man. He was content with what he had, and followed his calling cheerfully, and so it came about that he gathered some wealth together by his own efforts, and was respected and beloved throughout the forest. He no longer found fault with his wife, he honoured his mother, and gave to the needy who came to his door. When, after a year and a day, Mistress Lisbeth became the mother of a fine little boy, Peter went once more to the “Pine-thicket,” and repeated his charm. But no little Glass-man appeared.

“Master Treasure-keeper,” cried Peter, “do but hear me! I have only come to beg you to be my little son’s godfather. I want nothing else.”

There was no answer, only a puff of wind stirred the pine-trees above, and cast one or two fir-cones down upon the grass.

“Well,” cried Peter again, “I will take these with me as a remembrance, since thou wilt not show thyself.” And he put the fir-cones in his pocket and went home; but when he took off his Sunday jerkin, and his mother turned the pockets out before putting it away in the chest, there fell from them four great rolls of money, which proved to be good, new thalers of the realm, and there was not a single false oneamong them. And this was baby Peter’s christening-gift from the little man in the pine-forest.

So they lived on, quiet and contented; and many a time, when Peter Munk’s hair was already turning white, he would be heard to say: “It is better, after all, to be happy with little, than to have money and goods, and a cold heart.”

THE END

Printed byBallantyne, Hanson & Co.Edinburgh and London

FOOTNOTES:[1]No Rhine legends have been introduced, as they were considered to be already so widely known.[2]Thehorais a Roumanian dance, the dancers forming into circles or rounds.[3]Little sheep.[4]Vijelia means “the storm-wind.”[5]The hurricane.[6]The bridal veil of Roumanian girls is composed of a shower of loose golden threads.[7]It was believed in Germany that children born on a Sunday were more likely than others to see fairies and supernatural beings.[8]Most of the supernatural apparitions in this part of the Hartz district are called in the legends “Venetians.”

[1]No Rhine legends have been introduced, as they were considered to be already so widely known.

[2]Thehorais a Roumanian dance, the dancers forming into circles or rounds.

[3]Little sheep.

[4]Vijelia means “the storm-wind.”

[5]The hurricane.

[6]The bridal veil of Roumanian girls is composed of a shower of loose golden threads.

[7]It was believed in Germany that children born on a Sunday were more likely than others to see fairies and supernatural beings.

[8]Most of the supernatural apparitions in this part of the Hartz district are called in the legends “Venetians.”

Transcriber's Note:Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible. Some minor corrections of spelling and punctuation have been made.

Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible. Some minor corrections of spelling and punctuation have been made.

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