Tales of the Caravan, Inn, and Palace Part 16

"Yes, Mr. Schatzhauser," replied Peter, with a low bow. "I was in a pretty bad fix. Then you must have been the blackc.o.c.k who killed the snake! My best thanks for your kindness. But I have come here to counsel with you. Things are in a bad way with me; a charcoal burner doesn't get ahead any, and as I am still young I thought that perhaps something better might be made out of me. When I look at others, I see how they have progressed in a short time--the stout Ezekiel for instance, and the King of the Ball; they have money like hay."

"Peter," said the little man, gravely blowing the smoke from his pipe to a great distance, "do not talk to me in that way. How much would you be benefitted by being apparently happy for a few years, only to be still more unhappy afterwards? You must not despise your calling; your father and grandfather were honorable people, and followed the same pursuit. Peter Munk! I will not think that it is laziness that brings you to me."

Peter shrank back before the earnestness of the little man, and reddened. "Idleness, Herr Schatzhauser im Tannenwald, is, I well know, the beginning of all burdens; but you should not think poorly of me for desiring to better my condition, A charcoal burner is of very little account in the world, while the gla.s.s-makers and raftsmen and watchmakers are all respectable."

"Pride often comes before a fall," replied the master of the pine wood, in a more friendly manner. "You mortals are a strange race. Seldom is one of you contented with the lot to which he was born and brought up.

And what would be the result of your becoming a gla.s.s-maker? You would then want to be a timber merchant; and if you were a timber merchant, the life of the ranger or the magistrate's dwelling would seem more attractive still. But it shall be as you wish, provided you promise to work hard. I am accustomed to grant every Sunday child who knows how to find me three wishes; the first two are free, the third I can set aside if it is a foolish one. So announce your wishes, Peter, but let them be something good and useful."

"Hurrah! You are an excellent Little Gla.s.s-Man, and you are rightly called Schatzhauser, for with you the treasures are always at home.

Well, if I am at liberty to wish for what my heart longs, my first wish shall be that I could dance better than the King of the Ball, and that I had as much money in my pocket as the Stout Ezekiel."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"You fool!" exclaimed the little man scornfully; "What a pitiful wish is that, to dance well and have money to gamble with! Are you not ashamed, stupid Peter, to fool away your chance in such a fas.h.i.+on? Of what use will your dancing be to you and your poor mother? Of what use will money be to you, when, as can be seen from your wish, it is destined for the tavern, and like that of the miserable King of the Ball, will remain there? Then you would have nothing for the rest of the week, and will suffer want as before. I will give you another wish free; but look to it that you choose more intelligently?"

Peter scratched his head, and said, after some hesitation: "Well, I wish for the most beautiful and costly gla.s.s-works in the whole Black Forest, together with suitable belongings for it, and money to keep it going."

"Nothing else?" inquired the little man in an apprehensive manner; "nothing else, Peter?"

"Well, you might add a horse and carriage to all this."

"Oh, you stupid Charcoal Pete!" cried the little man, and threw his gla.s.s pipe in a fit of anger at a large pine tree, so that it broke into a hundred pieces. "Horses? Wagons? Intellect, I tell you, intellect, a sound human understanding and foresight, you should have wished for, and not horses and wagons. Well, don't look so sad; we will see that you don't come to much harm by it, for your second wish was not such a bad one. Gla.s.s-works will support both man and master; and if you had wished for foresight and understanding with it, wagons and horses would have followed as a matter of course."

"But, Herr Schatzhauser," returned Peter, "I have one more wish left, and if you think that intellect is such a desirable thing, why, I might wish for it now."

"Not so. You will get into many difficulties when you will rejoice that you still have one wish left. And so you had better now start on your way home. Here," said the little man, drawing a purse from his pocket, "are two thousand guldens, and it should be enough, so don't come back to me begging for more money, or I should have to hang you up to the highest pine tree. Three days ago old Winkfritz, who had the gla.s.s-works in the valley, died. Go there to-morrow early, and make a suitable bid for the business. Conduct yourself well, be diligent, and I will visit you occasionally and a.s.sist you with word and deed, as you did not wish for understanding. But--and I say this to you in all seriousness--your first wish was a bad one. Take care, Peter, how you run to the tavern; no one ever received any good thereby."

While thus speaking, the little man had produced a second pipe of alabaster gla.s.s, filled it with crushed pine cones, and lighted it by holding a large burning-gla.s.s in the sun. When he had done this, he shook Peter's hand in a friendly manner, accompanied him a short distance on his way, giving him some valuable advice, meanwhile blowing out thicker and thicker volumes of smoke, and finally disappearing in a cloud of smoke, that, as if from genuine Dutch tobacco, curled slowly about the tops of the pine trees.

When Peter arrived at home, he found his mother in a state of great alarm about him, for the good woman could believe nothing else but that her son had been drawn as a soldier. He, however, was in a very happy mood, and told her how he had met a good friend in the forest, who had advanced him money to undertake a better business than that of charcoal burning. Although his mother had lived in this hut for thirty years, and was as much accustomed to the sight of sooty faces as every miller's wife is to the flour on her husband's face, yet she was vain enough when Peter held out the prospect of a more brilliant life, to despise her early condition, and said: "Yes, as mother of a man who owns the gla.s.sworks, I am somewhat better than neighbor Grete and Bete, and for the future I shall take a front seat in the church among respectable people."

Peter soon concluded a bargain with the heirs for the gla.s.s-works. He retained the workmen whom he found there, and made gla.s.s by day and night. In the beginning he was much pleased with the business. He was accustomed to walk proudly about the works, with his hands in his pockets, looking into this and that, advising here and there, over which his workmen laughed not a little; but his great delight was to see the gla.s.s blown, and he often attempted this work himself, forming the most singular shapes out of the molten ma.s.s. But before long he tired of the business, and spent only an hour a day at the works; then only an hour in two days, and finally he went only once a week, so that his workmen did what they pleased.

All this resulted from his visits to the tavern. The Sunday after he had met the little man in the wood, he went to the tavern, and found the King of the Ball already leading the dance, while the Stout Ezekiel was sitting down to his gla.s.s and shaking dice for crown-thalers. Peter put his hand in his pocket to see if the Little Gla.s.s-Man had kept faith with him, and behold, his pockets were bulged out with silver and gold. His legs, too, began to twitch and move as though they were about to dance and leap; and when the first dance was over, he placed himself with his partner opposite, near the King of the Ball, and if this man sprang three feet high, Peter would fly up four, and if the other accomplished wonderfully intricate steps, Peter would throw out his legs in such a marvelous style that all present were beside themselves with delight and amazement. But as soon as it was known that Peter had bought a gla.s.s-factory, and as the dancers saw him tossing sixpences to the musicians every time he pa.s.sed them in the dance, their astonishment knew no bounds. Some thought he must have found treasure in the forest; others, that he had inherited an estate; but all deferred to him and looked upon him as a great man, simply because he had money. On the same evening he lost twenty guldens at play; and still the coins c.h.i.n.ked in his pocket as though there were still a hundred guldens there.

When Peter saw how important a person he had become, he could not contain himself for joy and pride He threw his money right and left, and divided it generously among the poor, remembering how sorely poverty pressed on him. The skill of the King of the Ball was brought to shame by the supernatural art of the new dancer, and Peter was dubbed Emperor of the Ball. The most adventurous gamblers of a Sunday did not risk as much as he; but neither did they lose as much. And yet the more he lost the more he won. This happened through the agency of the Little Gla.s.s-Man. He had wished always to have as much money in his pocket as the Stout Ezekiel had in his; and the latter was the very man to whom Peter lost his money. And when he lost twenty or thirty guldens at a throw, he had just as many more when Ezekiel pocketed them.

By degrees, however, he got deeper into gambling and drinking than the worst topers in the Black Forest, so that he was oftener called Gambler Pete than Emperor of the Ball, for he played now nearly every work-day as well. Hence it was that his business was soon ruined, and Peter's lack of understanding was to blame for it. He had as much gla.s.s made as the works could possibly produce; but he had not bought with the business the secret of how to dispose of the gla.s.s. He did not know what in the world to do with his stock, and finally sold it to peddlers at half the cost price, in order to pay the men's wages.

One evening he was returning home as usual from the tavern, and in spite of the wine he had drunk in order to make himself merry, he reflected with terror and anguish on the ruin of his gla.s.s-works business, when suddenly he felt conscious that some one was walking at his side. He turned around and, behold, it was the Little Gla.s.s-Man. At once Peter fell into a pa.s.sion, and protested with high and boastful words that the little man was to blame for his misfortunes.

"What do I want now with a horse and wagon?" cried he. "Of what use is the gla.s.s-foundry and all my gla.s.s? Even when I was a poor charcoal burner, I was far happier, and had no cares. Now I do not know how soon the magistrate will come and seize my property for debt!"

"Indeed?" replied the Little Gla.s.s-Man, "indeed? I should bear the blame for your misfortunes? Is this your grat.i.tude for what I have done for you? Who advised you to wish so foolishly? You were bound to be a gla.s.s-manufacturer, and yet did not know where to sell your wares.

Didn't I caution you to wish wisely? Judgment, Peter, and wisdom, you were lacking in."

"What do you mean by judgment and wisdom?" demanded Peter. "I am as wise a man as any body. Little Gla.s.s-Man, and will prove it to you."

With these words he seized the Little Gla.s.s-Man violently by the neck, shouting: "Now I have you, Schatzhauser im grunnen Tannenwald! and now I will make my third wish, which you must grant me. I want right here on the spot two hundred thousand thalers, and a house and----oh dear!"

shrieked he, as he wrung his hands, for the Little Gla.s.s-Man had transformed himself into a glowing gla.s.s that burned his hand like flaming fire. And nothing more was to be seen of the little man.

For many days Peter's blistered hand reminded him of his folly and ingrat.i.tude; but when his hand healed his conscience became deadened, and he said: "Even if my gla.s.s-works and every thing I have should be sold, I still have the Stout Ezekiel to fall back on. As long as he has money of a Sunday I shall not want for it."

True, Peter! But if he should have none? And this very thing happened one day. For one Sunday Peter came down to the tavern, and the people stretched their necks out of the window, one saying, "There comes Gambler Pete!" and another, "Yes, the Emperor of the Ball, the rich gla.s.s-manufacturer!" while a third one shook his head, saying, "Every-where his debts are spoken of, and in the town it is said that the magistrate will not be put off much longer from seizing his gla.s.s-works." The rich Peter greeted the guests at the window politely as he stepped out of his wagon, and called out: "Good evening, landlord! has the Stout Ezekiel come yet?" And a deep voice replied: "Come right in, Peter. We have already set down to the cards, and have kept a place for you." So Peter entered the public room, put his hand into his pocket and found that the Stout Ezekiel must be pretty well provided with money, for his own pocket was crammed full.

He sat down at the table with the others, and played and won, losing now and then; and so they played until evening came on, and all the honest folk went home, and then they continued to play by candle-light, until two other players said: "Come, we've had enough, and must go home to our wife and children." But Gambler Pete challenged the Stout Ezekiel to remain. For some time Ezekiel would not consent to do so, but finally he said: "Very well, I will just count my money and then we throw for five gulden stakes, for less than that would be child's play." He took out his purse and counted out one hundred guldens, so Gambler Pete knew how much money he had without troubling himself to count. But although Ezekiel had won all the afternoon, he now began to lose throw after throw, and swore fearfully over his losses. If he threw threes, Peter would immediately throw fives. At last he flung down his last five guldens on the table, and said: "Once more, and even if I lose these I won't quit, for you must lend me from your winnings Peter; one honest fellow should help another!"

"As much as you like, even if it was a hundred guldens," said the Emperor of the Ball, pleased with his gains; and the Stout Ezekiel shook the dice and threw fifteen. "Three fives!" cried he, "now we will see!" But Pete threw eighteen, and a hoa.r.s.e well-known voice behind him said: "There, that was the last!"

He turned about, and behind him stood the giant form of Dutch Michel.

Horrified, he let the money he had just grasped fall from his hand.

Ezekiel, however, did not see Michel, but requested a loan of ten guldens from Gambler Pete. Quite dazed, Peter put his hand in his pocket, but found no money there. He searched his other pocket but found none there; he turned his pockets inside out, but not a farthing rolled out. Now for the first time he remembered that his first wish had been to always have as much money in his pocket as the Stout Ezekiel had. It had all disappeared like smoke.

The landlord and Ezekiel looked on in surprise while he was searching for his money; they would not believe him when he declared that he had no more money, but finally, when they felt in his pockets themselves, they got very angry and denounced him as a base sorcerer who had wished all his winnings and his own money at home. Peter defended himself as well as he could, but appearances were against him. Ezekiel declared that he would tell this terrible tale to every body in the Black Forest, and the landlord promised Ezekiel that he would go to town early in the morning and enter a complaint against Peter Munk as a sorcerer, and he would live to see Peter burned, he added. Thereupon they fell upon Peter, tore off his jacket, and pitched him out of doors.

Not a star was to be seen in the sky as Peter stole sadly back towards his home; yet in spite of the darkness he could perceive a form that walked near him, and finally heard it say: "It's all up with you, Peter Munk! All your magnificence is at an end; and I could have told you how it would turn out when you would not listen to me but ran over to the Little Gla.s.s-Man. Now you can see what comes of despising my advice.

But try me once; I have pity on your hard fate. Not one who has come to me has regretted it; and if you are not afraid of the road, you can speak to me any time to-morrow in the Tannenbuehl."

Peter knew well who it was that spoke to him, and he shuddered. He made no reply, but walked on to his house.

The story-teller was interrupted just here by a commotion before the inn. A wagon was heard to drive up; several voices called for a light; there was a loud rapping on the yard gate, and the barking of several dogs. The room occupied by the wagoner and the journeymen looked out on the street. The four men sprang up and rushed in there in order to see what had happened. As nearly as they could make out by the gleam of a lantern, a large traveling carriage stood before the inn, and a tall man was a.s.sisting two veiled ladies to alight from it, while a coachman in livery was taking out the horses and a servant was unstrapping the trunk. "G.o.d be merciful to them!" sighed the wagoner. "If they leave this inn with a whole skin I shall cease to feel uneasy about my cart."

"Keep still!" whispered the student. "I have a suspicion that it is not for us, but for these ladies that the ambush has been laid. Probably the people below had information of the journey these ladies were to take. If we could only contrive to warn them of their danger! Stop a moment. In the whole inn there is but one room that would be fit for a lady, and that one adjoins mine. They will be conducted there. Remain quietly in this room, and I will try to let their servants know the state of affairs."

The young man stole silently to his room and blew out the wax candles, leaving only the light that the landlady had given them. Then he listened at the door.

Presently the landlady came up the stairs with the ladies, and conducted them in a most obsequious manner to their room. She besought her guests to retire soon, as they must be exhausted by their ride, and then went down-stairs again. Soon afterwards, the student heard the heavy steps of a man ascending the stairs; he opened the door cautiously a little ways, and peering through the crack saw the tall man who had helped the ladies from the wagon. He wore a hunter's costume, with a hunting knife in his belt, and was most likely the equerry of the ladies.

As soon as the student could make sure that this man was alone, he opened his door quickly and beckoned the man to come in. The equerry came up to him with a surprised look, but before he could ask what was wanted, the student whispered to him: "Sir, you have been led into a den of thieves to-night."

The man shrank back, but the student drew him inside of the room and related to him all the suspicious circ.u.mstances about the house.

The huntsman was much alarmed as he heard this, and informed the young man that the ladies, a countess and her maid, were at first anxious to travel right through the night; but they were met a short distance from this inn by a horseman who had hailed them and asked where they were bound. When he learned that their intention was to travel through the Spessart all night, he advised them against doing so, as being very unsafe at the present time. "If you will take the advice of an honest man," he had added, "you will give up that purpose; there is an inn not far from here, and poor and inconvenient as you may find it, it is better for you to pa.s.s the night there than to expose yourself unnecessarily to danger." The man who thus advised them appeared to be honest and respectable, and the countess, fearing an a.s.sault from robbers, had given orders to have the carriage stopped at this inn.

The huntsman considered it his duty to inform the ladies of the danger that threatened them. He went into their room, and shortly afterwards opened the door connecting with the student's room. The countess, a lady some forty years of age, came in to the student, pale with terror, and had him repeat his suspicions to her. Then they consulted together as to what steps they had better take in this critical situation, finally deciding to summon the two servants, the wagoner and the journeymen, so that in case of an attack they might all make common cause.

The door that opened on the hall in the countess's room was locked and barricaded with tables and chairs. She, with her maid, sat down on the bed, and the two servants kept watch by her, while the huntsman, the student, the journeyman and the wagoner sat around the table in the student's room, and resolved to await their fate.

It was now about ten o'clock; every thing was quiet in the house, and still no signs were made of disturbing the guests, when the compa.s.s-maker said: "In order to remain awake it would be best for us to take up our former mode of pa.s.sing the time. We were telling all kinds of stories; and if you, Mr. Huntsman, have no objections, we might continue." The huntsman not only had no objections, but to show his entire acquiescence he promised to relate something himself, and began at once with the following tale:

SAID'S ADVENTURES.

In the time of Haroun-al-Raschid, the ruler of Bagdad, there lived in Balsora a man named Benezar. He was possessed of considerable means, and could live quietly and comfortably without resorting to trade. Nor did he change his life of ease when a son was born to him. "Why should I, at my time of life, d.i.c.ker and trade?" said he to his neighbors, "just to leave Said a thousand more gold pieces if things went well, and if they went badly a thousand less? 'Where two have eaten, a third may feast,' says the proverb; and if he is only a good boy, Said shall want for nothing." Thus spake Benezar, and well did he keep his word, for his son was brought up neither to a trade nor yet to commerce.