In the meantime the man had staggered and panted up, and when he was opposite Lisbeth, he almost fell down under the sack. "Alas, take pity on me, madame, and hand me a gla.s.s of water," said the little man; "I can not go another step, and I fear I shall faint."
"But at your age you ought not to carry such a heavy load," said Lisbeth.
"Yes, if I was not forced by poverty to serve as a messenger," answered he. "Alas, a rich lady like you does not know how poverty pinches, and how refreshing a drink of water would be on such a hot day."
On hearing this Lisbeth rushed into the house, took a pitcher from the shelf and filled it with water; but when she returned with it, and had come within a few feet of the man, she saw how miserable he appeared as he sat on the sack, and, remembering that her husband was not at home, she set the pitcher of water to one side, got a goblet and filled it with wine, laid a slice of rye bread on top of it, and brought it out to the old man. "There; a sip of wine, at your age, will do you more good than water," said she. "But don"t drink it so hastily, and eat your bread with it."
The little man looked at her in astonishment, while tears gathered in his eyes. He drank the wine and then said: "I have grown old, but I have seen few people who were so merciful, and who knew how to make gifts as handsomely and heartily as you do, Frau Lisbeth. And for this your life on earth shall be a happy one; such a heart will not remain without a reward."
"No, and she shall have her reward on the spot!" shouted a terrible voice; and as they turned, there stood Peter with an angry face.
"So you were pouring out my best wine for beggars, and giving my own goblet to the lips of a vagrant? There, take your reward!"
Lisbeth threw herself at his feet and begged his forgiveness; but the heart of stone felt no pity; he turned the whip he held in his hand, and struck such a blow with the b.u.t.t of it on her beautiful forehead, that she sank lifeless into the arms of the old man. When Peter saw this, he seemed to regret it on the instant, he bent down to see if there was still life in her, but the little man said to him in a well-known voice: "Don"t trouble yourself. Charcoal Peter! It was the sweetest and loveliest flower in the Black Forest; but you have destroyed it, and it will never bloom again."
The blood left Peter"s cheeks, as he said: "It is you then, Herr Schatzhauser? Well, what is done, is done, and must have come to pa.s.s.
I hope, however, that you won"t charge me with being her murderer before the magistrate."
"Wretch!" exclaimed the Little Gla.s.s-Man, "how would it console me to bring your mortal frame to the gallows? It is not earthly judges whom you have to fear, but other and severer ones, for you have sold your soul to the evil one."
"And if I have sold my heart," shrieked Peter, "you and your miserable treasures are to blame for it! You, malicious spirit, have led me to perdition, driven me to seek help of another, and you are answerable for it all."
But hardly had Peter said this, when the Little Gla.s.s-Man swelled and grew, and became both tall and broad, while his eyes were as large as soup plates, and his mouth was like a heated oven from which flames darted forth. Peter threw himself on his knees, and his marble heart did not prevent his limbs from trembling like an aspen tree. The Spirit of the Forest seized him by the neck with the talons of a hawk, and whirled him about as a whirlwind sweeps up the dead leaves, and then threw him to the ground with such force that all his ribs cracked.
"Earth-worm!" cried he, in a voice like a roll of thunder, "I could dash you to pieces if I chose, for you have insulted the Master of the Forest. But for this dead woman"s sake, who has given me food and drink, you shall have an eight days" reprieve. If you don"t mend your ways by that time, I will come and grind your limbs to powder, and you shall die in all your sins!"
Night had come on, when some men who were pa.s.sing saw the rich Peter Munk lying on the ground. They turned him over, and searched for signs of life; but for some time their efforts to restore him were in vain.
Finally one of them went into the house and brought out some water, with which they sprinkled his face. Thereupon Peter drew a long breath, groaned, and opened his eyes, looked about him, and inquired after Lisbeth; but none of them had seen her. He thanked the men for the a.s.sistance they had rendered him, slipped into his house and searched every-where; but Lisbeth was nowhere to be found, and what he had taken for a horrible dream was the bitter truth.
While he was sitting there quite alone, some strange thoughts came into his mind; he was not afraid of anything, for his heart was cold; but when he thought of his wife"s death, the thought of his own death came to him and he reflected how heavily he should be weighted on leaving the world--burdened with the tears of the poor, with thousands of their curses, with the agony of the poor wretches on whom he had set his dogs, with the silent despair of his mother, with the blood of the good and beautiful Lisbeth; and if he could not give an account to the old man, her father, if he should come and ask, "Where is my daughter?" how should he respond to the question of Another, to whom all forests, all seas, all mountains, and the lives of all mortals, belong?
His sleep was disturbed by dreams, and every few moments he was awakened by a sweet voice calling to him: "Peter, get a warmer heart!"
And when he woke he quickly closed his eyes again; for the voice that gave him this warning was the voice of Lisbeth, his wife.
The following day he went to the tavern to drown his reflections in drink, and there he met the Stout Ezekiel. He sat down by him; they talked about this and that, of the fine weather, of the war, of the taxes, and finally came to talk about death, and how this and that one had died suddenly. Peter asked Ezekiel what he thought about death and a future life. Ezekiel replied that the body was buried, but that the soul either rose to heaven or descended to h.e.l.l.
"But do they bury one"s heart also?" asked Peter, all attention,
"Why, certainly, that is also buried."
"But how would it be if one did not have his heart any longer?"
continued Peter.
Ezekiel looked at him sharply as he spoke those words. "What do you mean by that? Do you imagine that I haven"t a heart?"
"Oh, you have heart enough, and as firm as a rock," replied Peter.
Ezekiel stared at him in astonishment, looked about him to see if any one had overheard Peter, and then said:
"Where do you get this knowledge? Or perhaps yours does not beat any more?"
"It does not beat any more, at least not here in my breast!" answered Peter Munk. "But tell me--now that you know what I mean--how will it be with our hearts!"
"Why should that trouble you, comrade?" asked Ezekiel laughing. "We have a pleasant course to run on earth, and that"s enough. It is certainly one of the best things about our cold hearts, that we experience no fear in the face of such thoughts."
"Very true; but still one will think on these subjects, and although I do not know what fear is, yet I can remember how much I feared h.e.l.l when I was a small and innocent boy."
"Well, it certainly won"t go very easy with us," said Ezekiel. "I once questioned a school-master on that point, and he told me that after death the hearts were weighed, to find out how heavily they had sinned.
The light ones then ascended, the heavy ones sank down; and I think that our stones will have a pretty good weight."
"Alas, yes," replied Peter; "and I often feel uncomfortable, that my heart is so unsympathetic and indifferent, when I think on such subjects."
On the next night, Peter heard the well-known voice whisper in his ear, five or six times: "Peter, get a warmer heart!" He experienced no remorse at having killed his wife, but when he told the domestics that she had gone off on a journey, the thought had instantly occurred to him: "Where has she probably journeyed to?"
For six days he had lived on in this manner, haunted by these reflections, and every night he heard this voice, which brought back to his recollection the terrible threat of the Little Gla.s.s-Man; but on the seventh morning he sprang up from his couch crying: "Now, then, I will see whether I can procure a warmer heart, for this emotionless stone in my breast makes my life weary and desolate." He quickly drew on his Sunday attire, mounted his horse, and rode to the Tannenbuehl.
In the Tannenbuehl the trees stood too closely together to permit of his riding further, so he tied his horse to a tree, and with hasty steps went up to the highest point of the hill and when he reached the largest pine he spoke the verse that had once caused him so much trouble to learn:
"Keeper of green woods of pine, All its lands are only thine; Thou art many centuries old; Sunday-born children thee behold."
Thereupon the Little Gla.s.s-Man appeared, but not with a pleasant greeting as before; his expression was sad and stern. He wore a coat of black gla.s.s, and a long piece of c.r.a.pe fluttered down from his hat.
Peter well knew for whom the Spirit of the Wood sorrowed.
"What do you want of me, Peter Munk?" asked the Little Gla.s.s-Man in a hollow voice.
"I have still one wish left, Herr Schatzhauser," answered Peter, with downcast eyes.
"Can hearts of stone have any wishes?" said the Gla.s.s-Man. "You have every thing needful for your wicked course of life, and it is doubtful whether I should grant your wish."
"But you promised me three wishes; and I have one left yet."
"Still, I have the right to refuse it if it should prove a foolish one," continued the Gla.s.s-Man. "But proceed, I will hear what it is you want."
"I want you to take this lifeless stone out of my breast, and give me in its place my living heart," said Peter.
"Did I make that bargain with you? Am I Dutch Michel, who gives riches and cold hearts? You must look to him for your heart."
"Alas, he will nevermore give it back to me," replied Peter.
"Wicked as you are, I pity you," said the Little Gla.s.s-Man after a pause. "But as your wish is not a foolish one, I can not refuse you my a.s.sistance at least. So listen. You can not recover your heart by force, but possibly you may do so by stratagem; and this may not prove such a hard matter after all, for Michel, although he thinks himself uncommonly wise, is really a very stupid fellow. So go directly to him, and do just as I shall tell you."
The Little Gla.s.s-Man then instructed Peter in what he was to do, and gave him a small cross of clear crystal. "He can not harm you while you live, and he will let you go free if you hold this up before him and pray at the same time. And if you should get back your heart, then return to this place, where I shall be awaiting you."
Peter Munk took the cross, impressed on his memory all the words he was to say, and went to Dutch Michel"s ravine. He called him three times by name, and immediately the giant stood before him.
"Have you killed your wife?" asked the giant, with a fiendish laugh. "I should have done it in your place, for she was giving away your wealth to the beggars. But you had better leave the country for a while, for an alarm will be given if she is not found. You will need money, and have probably come after it."
"You have guessed rightly," said Peter, "and make it a large amount this time, for America is far away."