FullReads

Not one star was twinkling in the sky to lighten Peter’s way as he sneaked sadly towards his home, but still he could distinctly recognise a dark form striding by his side, which at length said, “It is all over with you, Peter Munk; all your splendour is at an end, and this I could have foretold you even at the time when you would not listen to me, but rather ran to the silly glass dwarf. You now see to what you have come by disregarding my advice. But try your fortune with me this time, I have compassion on your fate. No one ever yet repented of applying to me, and if you don’t mind the walk to the Tannenbuehl, I shall be there all day to-morrow and you may speak to me, if you will call.” Peter now very clearly perceived who was speaking to him, but feeling a sensation of awe, he made no answer and ran towards home.

When, on the Monday morning, he came to his factory, he not only found his workmen, but also other people whom no one likes to see; viz., the bailiff and three beadles. The bailiff wished Peter good morning, asked him how he had slept, and then took from his pocket a long list of Peter’s creditors, saying, with a stern look, “Can you pay or not? Be short, for I have no time to lose, and you know it is full three leagues to the prison.” Peter in despair confessed he had nothing left, telling the bailiff he might value all the premises, horses, and carts. But while they went about examining and valuing the things, Peter said to himself, “Well, it is but a short way to the Tannenbuehl, and as the little man has not helped me, I will now try for once the big man.” He ran towards the Tannenbuehl as fast as if the beadles were at his heels. On passing the spot where the glass-mannikin had first spoken to him, he felt as if an invisible hand were stopping him, but he tore himself away and ran onwards till he came to the boundary which he had well marked. Scarcely had he, almost out of breath, called, “Dutch Michel, Mr. Dutch Michel!” than suddenly the gigantic raftsman with his pole stood before him.

“Have you come then?” said the latter, laughing. “Were they going to fleece you and sell you to your creditors? Well, be easy, all your sorrow comes, as I have always said, from the little glass-mannikin, the Separatist and Pietist. When one gives, one ought to give right plentifully and not like that skinflint. But come,” he continued, turning towards the forest, “follow me to my house, there we’ll see whether we can strike a bargain.”

“Strike a bargain?” thought Peter. “What can he want of me, what can I sell to him? Am I perhaps to serve him, or what is it that he can want?” They went at first up-hill over a steep forest path, when all at once they stopped at a dark, deep, and almost perpendicular ravine. Michel leaped down as easily as he would go down marble steps; but Peter almost fell into a fit when he saw him below, rising up like a church steeple reaching him an arm as long as a scaffolding pole with a hand at the end as broad as the table in the ale house, and calling in a voice which sounded like the deep tones of a death bell, “Set yourself boldly on my hand, hold fast by the fingers and you will not fall off.” Peter, trembling, did as he was ordered, sat down upon his hand and held himself fast by the thumb of the giant.