The Marvellous History of the Shadowless Man and The Cold Heart Part 13

"Can stone-hearts wish for anything?" said the other. "You have everything that your evil mind desired; and I shall be very reluctant to grant you anything."

"But you promised me three wishes; and one of them still remains to me."

"But I can reject it, if it is foolish," the forest spirit replied.

"Yet, speak out, I will listen to what you have to say."

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

"Did I make the bargain with you?" the Gla.s.smanikin demanded. "Am I Dutch Michael, who gives away riches and cold hearts? To him you must go if you want your own heart again."

"Alas, he will never give it back to me," answered Peter, dejectedly.

"I am sorry for you, bad as you are," said the little man, after a moment's reflection. "And as your wish is not a foolish one, I can at least, not refuse to help you. Listen, therefore. By force you can never regain possession of your heart, but you can do so by cunning; and by such means you may achieve your purpose without much difficulty; for Michael is still the stupid Michael, although he deems himself so clever. Go straight to him, therefore, and do exactly as I tell you!"

Saying which, he gave him full instructions how to proceed, and handed him a little cross of transparent gla.s.s. "He cannot take your life, and if you hold this up in front of him, saying your prayers meanwhile, he will have to let you go unharmed. And if you succeed in obtaining that which you go for, return to me here immediately."

Peter Munk took the little cross, and trying to remember all that he had been told to do, he proceeded to Dutch Michael's abode. Having called him thrice by name, the giant stood before him.

"And so you have slain your wife?" asked the Dutchman, laughing horribly. "I should have done the same, for she was squandering all your fortune on beggars. But you must leave the country for a time, for there will be trouble when they find she is missing; and you want money, of course, and have come to me for some?"

"You have guessed aright!" replied Peter; "and a substantial sum this time, for it is a long way to America."

Michael led the way to his cottage, where he opened a desk in which lay a store of money, and took therefrom a roll of gold coins. As he was counting them out on the table, Peter said to him: "You are a miserable cheat, Michael, to have deceived me as you did, trying to make me believe that I had a stone in my breast and that you had my heart."

Michael stared at him perplexedly. "And is it not so?" he asked. "Can you feel your heart? Is it not as cold as ice? Do you know what it is to be afraid, or sorry, or remorseful?"

"You have only made my heart stop still; but it is still here in my breast; and Ezekiel, also, agrees with me that you have imposed on both of us. You are not the sort of man who could tear anybody's heart out of their breast without their knowledge, or without danger to them--that would be witchcraft indeed!"

"But I a.s.sure you," cried Michael angrily, "you and Ezekiel and all those who came to me and are now rich have cold hearts in their bosoms just as you have, and their own hearts I have here in my keeping."

"Ah; how glibly the lies slip off your tongue," laughed Peter. "You may tell that story to other people. Do you think I did not come across dozens of such conjuring tricks when on my travels? The hearts here in this room are made of wax. You are a wealthy fellow--I will concede so much, but you are a fool at magic."

The giant flew into a rage, and, flinging open the door to the inner room, he cried: "Come in here and read all the labels, especially that one there; look, that is Peter Munk's heart. See how it beats! Do you think it is possible to make such a thing as that out of wax?"

"And yet it is wax," answered Peter. "A real heart would not beat thus; and mine is here in my breast. No, no, you are no good at magic."

"But I will prove it to you!" cried Michael, angrily. "You shall feel for yourself that it is your own heart." He took up the heart, tore Peter's jerkin open, and drew from his breast a stone which he held before him; then he breathed on the heart carefully and put it back in its original place; and as Peter felt the old familiar beat of it, he rejoiced, that it was possible to him once more.

"How do you feel now?" asked Michael, smiling.

"Well, I must confess you were right after all," answered Peter, feeling carefully in his pocket for the little cross. "I could not have believed that anybody could do such things."

"Well, it's possible, anyway! And I can work magic, as you see. But come, I will now replace the stone."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "And, as he prayed, Michael decreased more and more in size, falling to the ground, where he lay writhing to and fro like a worm."]

"Gently, Master Michael!" cried Peter, retreating a step and holding up the cross in front of him. "I laid the trap for _you_ this time, and you have fallen into it!" And straightway he began to pray, saying whatever came to his mind. And as he prayed, Michael decreased more and more in size, falling to the ground, where he lay writhing to and fro like a worm, groaning and moaning; and all the hearts on the surrounding shelves began to beat and throb until the place sounded as it might have been a clockmaker's workshop. Then Peter's courage left him; he rushed from the room and out of the house, and, goaded on by terror, began to clamber up the rocky precipice; and as he climbed he heard Michael stamping and clattering and roaring out the most terrible curses, as he rose from the ground to follow him. Having succeeded in surmounting the cliff, Peter set out to run to the Pine-grove; and at the same time a most frightful storm broke out; lightning flashes fell to right and left of him, creating havoc among the trees. But Peter reached the Gla.s.smanikin's domain in safety.

His heart beat joyfully in his breast; but only because it _did_ beat.

Then all his past life flashed before him, as horrible as the storm which was laying waste the forest on all sides behind him. He thought of Elspeth, his lovely, gentle wife, whom in his avaricious rage he had murdered; he saw himself as an outcast from society, and he burst into tears as he stood before the mount on which the Gla.s.smanikin had sat.

And there was the Guardian of the Pine-forest, sitting under a pine and smoking a little pipe; but he looked more cheerful now. "Why are you weeping, Charcoal-Peter?" he asked. "Have you your own heart again, or is the cold stone still in your breast?"

"Ah, Master Guardian!" sobbed Peter; "when I had that cold stone heart I could not weep, my eyes were as dry as the country in July; and now this real heart of mine is like to break with grief at my misdeeds! I drove my debtors to ruin; I set my dogs at the poor and sick, and, you yourself saw how with my whip I struck the fair forehead of Elspeth!"

"Peter! you were a great sinner!" said the manikin. "Money and idleness were your undoing, until your heart was turned to stone, knowing neither joy, nor sorrow, nor remorse, nor compa.s.sion. But repentance atones for much; and if I were only sure that you truly repent for your past life, I could do something for you even now."

"I want nothing now," answered Peter, sadly, while his head drooped on his bosom. "I have nothing left to live for; I could never be happy again; besides what is there for me to do now that I am left alone in the world? My mother will never forgive my conduct towards her; and, perhaps, monster that I am, I have already sent her to her grave. And Elspeth, my wife! Slay me also, Master Guardian, and then there will be an end at least of my wretched life."

"Good!" replied the Gla.s.smanikin, "If that is your only wish, I can not refuse to grant it; and my axe is here to my hand."

Calmly he withdrew his little pipe from his mouth, knocked out the ashes and pocketed it. Then, slowly, he arose and went behind the pine-trees. Peter threw himself down weeping, on the gra.s.s; he had nothing more to do with this life but to await patiently the death-blow that should end it. After a while he heard light footsteps approaching, and thought: "Now he is coming."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Look once more around, Peter Munk."]

"Look once more around, Peter Munk!" said the voice of the Manikin. He brushed the tears from his eyes, and looked up,--and there before him stood his mother and Elspeth, his wife, smiling kindly at him.

He sprang joyfully to his feet: "You are not dead, Elspeth! And you, mother!--Ah, how can you ever pardon me?"

"They will pardon you," said the Gla.s.smanikin, "because you have truly repented, and they will forget everything. Return to your father's cottage, a charcoal-burner as before. If you are good and honest, you will do honour to your trade, and your neighbours will love and respect you more than if you were the possessor of ten tons of gold."

Thus spoke the Gla.s.smanikin, and bade them farewell.

The three praised and blessed him, and set out for home together.

The grand house which had belonged to Peter in his days of splendour was no longer there; it had been struck by lightning and had been burnt to the ground with all its treasures; but the cottage which had been his father's home was not far distant; thither they went their way, quite unmoved by their heavy loss.

But what a surprise was in store for them when they reached the cottage. It had been changed into a fine farmhouse, and everything within, though simple, was good and clean.

"The good Gla.s.smanikin has done all this!" cried Peter.

"How lovely!" exclaimed Elspeth. "I shall feel much more at home here than in that big house with all those servants."

Thenceforth Peter Munk became a hard-working and n.o.ble man. He was content with his lot, and worked at his trade without murmuring; and thus it came that by his own efforts he made money, and earned the love and respect of all in the forest. He never spoke another harsh word to his wife Elspeth, he honoured his mother, and relieved all the poor who knocked at his door.

One year after, when his wife bore him a beautiful boy, Peter set out for the Pine-grove and repeated the old rhyme. But no Gla.s.smanikin showed himself.

"Master Guardian!" he shouted. "Do listen to me! I don't want anything, but have come to ask you to be G.o.dfather to my little son."

But there was no answer; nothing but a light breath of wind which rustled through the pines, causing a few pinecones to fall at his feet.

"Well, I will take these with me in remembrance, as you will not show yourself," cried Peter, putting the cones in his pocket, and turning homewards. But when he took off his jerkin, and his mother turned the pockets inside out before putting the jerkin away, there fell on the floor four bulky packets of money, which, when opened, were seen to contain nothing but bright new Baden thalers, with not a single bad one among them. And this was the manikin's present, as sponsor, to his little G.o.dchild, Peterkin.

Thus they lived on in peace and contentment, and Peter would often say then, and in after years when a grey-haired old man: "It is better to be content with a little, than to be possessed of wealth and _a cold heart_!"