Listen to the audiokazka cold heart online. Frozen fairy tale Wilhelm hauf frozen audiobook

Main characters:

1. Glass man, friend of people, patron saint of Peter, Michel the Giant
2. Barbara Munch - Poor Widow
3. Peter, her son, is, in fact, the main character himself
4. Ezekiel the Fat, Slurker Skinny, Wilm the Handsome
5. Lisbeth, daughter of a poor woodcutter who became Peter's wife

Summary: A poor coal miner from the Black Forest, Peter Munch, "not stupid fellow", began to feel burdened by a marginal and, it seems, not at all honorable craft inherited from his father. However, of all the ideas of how to suddenly get a lot of money, he did not like any. Remembering the old legend about the Glass Man, he tries to summon it, but forgets the last two lines of the spell. In the village of woodcutters, he is told a legend about Michel the Giant, who gives wealth, but demands a large payment for them. When Peter finally remembered the whole text of the challenge of the Glass Man, he was met by Michel, who at first promised riches, but when Peter tried to escape, he threw his hook at him. Fortunately, Peter ran to the border of his farms, and the hook broke, and the snake, which turned into one of the chips that had flown off the hook, was killed by a huge capercaillie. It turned out that it was not a capercaillie at all, but a Glass Man. He promised to fulfill three wishes, and the guy decided to dance well, always have in his pocket the same amount of money as the richest man in their city, a glass factory. The third desire The Glass Man, disappointed with so much material desires, advised to leave it "for later", but he gave money to open the plant. But Peter soon launched the plant, and spent all the time at the gambling table. Once Tolstoy Ezekil (the richest man in the city) did not have money in his pocket - therefore, Peter ended up with nothing ... Michel the Giant gave him a lot of hard coins, but in return he took his living heart hearts of many rich people), and inserted a stone into his chest. But money did not bring happiness to Peter with a cold heart, and after he struck his wife Lisbeth, who gave a cup of wine and bread to an old man passing by (it was the Glass Man), and she disappeared , the time has come for the third desire: Peter wanted to regain his warm heart. The Glass Man taught him how to do this: the guy told Michel that he did not believe that he had taken his heart, and that for the sake of checking, he inserted it back. The brave Munch, whose hot heart was harder than a stone, was not afraid of the Giant, and when he one after the other sent elements (fire, water, ...) to him, an unknown force carried Peter out of the domain of Michel, and the giant himself became as small as a worm. Having met the Glass Man, Munch wanted to die in order to end his shameful life, but instead of an ax he brought him a mother and wife. Peter's luxurious house burned down, there was no wealth, but a new one stood in the place of his father's old house. And when the Munk's son was born, the Glass Man presented his last gift: the cones picked up by Peter in his forest turned into brand new thalers.

Part one

Anyone who travels in Swabia should never forget to drop by the Black Forest for a short while. Not because of the trees, although not everywhere you will find such an innumerable amount of magnificent huge firs, but because of people who are strikingly different from the rest of the district population. They are taller than normal, broad-shouldered, with strong muscles. And the reason for this is nothing more than a strengthening aroma flowing from the oil in the morning, which in their youth rewarded them with healthier, light, clear eyes and character, firm and courageous, although, perhaps, more rude than those of the inhabitants of river valleys and plains. They differ sharply from those living outside the forest, not only in posture and height, but also in customs and clothing. The inhabitants of the Black Forest in Baden are best dressed. Men let go of their beards as they naturally grow. Black caftans, wide, immense wide trousers and pointed hats with wide brims give them some originality, but at the same time seriousness and respectability. There people usually make glass, as well as make watches and supply half the world with them.

On the other side of the forest, part of the same tribe lives, but their occupations gave them different customs and habits than those of the glaziers. They trade in timber, fell and hew their spruces and float them down the Nagold to the Neckar, and from the Upper Neckar down the Rhine, and even down to Holland, so that they know the Black Forest and their long rafts by the sea.

In every city that lies by the river, they stop and proudly wait to see if they will buy logs and boards from them. As for the strong and long logs themselves, they are sold for a lot of money to the Mingers, who build ships from them. These people are used to a harsh, wandering life. Their joys are to go down the river in their trees, their grief is to trudge back along the bank.

This is why their splendid clothing is so different from that of the glaziers in the rest of the Black Forest. They wear palm-wide caftans of dark linen, green braces on their powerful bosom, black leather pants, from the pocket of which a copper foot peeps out in the form of a badge. But their special pride is made up of boots, in all likelihood the largest, for which there is a fashion anywhere in the world. Indeed, they can be stretched two spans above the knees, and raftsmen can wander three feet deep in them without getting their feet wet.

Until recently, the inhabitants of this forest believed in forest spirits and only in modern times have they freed themselves from this unreasonable superstition. However, it is extremely strange that even these forest spirits, which, according to legend, live in the Black Forest, differed in costume. So, they assured that the Glass Man, a kind spirit, 3 feet tall, was never shown otherwise than in a pointed hat with large brim, in a caftan, wide trousers and red stockings. And the Dutchman Michel, who runs the other side of the forest, is gigantic, broad-shouldered, in a rafting suit. Many who saw him were ready to argue that they could not pay out of their own pockets for the number of calves whose skin was required for his boots. “They are so big that an ordinary person can stand up to their necks in them,” these people said and assured that they were not exaggerating.

With these forest spirits, a young Black Forest man once had a strange story, which I want to tell you about.

There was a widow in the Black Forest, Barbara Munch. Her husband was a coal miner. After his death, she gradually taught her sixteen-year-old son to do the same. The young, stately guy, Peter Munch, liked it, because even under his father he knew nothing else but to sit by a smoking fire for whole weeks or go black and covered with soot to the city to sell his coal. But the coal miner has a lot of time to think about himself and about everything else, and when Peter Munch sat in front of the fire, the dark trees surrounding him and the deep forest silence brought tears and some kind of unconscious longing to him. Something grieved him and annoyed him, but what exactly - he did not know very well. Finally he noticed something like that, and that was his position. “Black, lonely coal miner! He said to himself. - What a miserable life! Glaziers, watchmakers and even musicians are held in high esteem, especially on a Sunday evening! And Peter Munch will appear, cleanly washed and unloaded, in his father's festive caftan with silver buttons, in new red stockings, and if then someone comes up from behind, he will think: "Who is this slender fellow?" and he will look enviously at my stockings and my stately gait - he has only to look back, and then, of course, he will say: "Oh, it's just the coal miner Peter Munch!"

The raftsmen on the other side of the forest were also the object of his envy. When these forest giants in magnificent clothes passed by, having on themselves buttons, buckles and chains for half a centner of silver, when they spread their legs with important faces, they watched dances, swore in Dutch and, like noble Mingers, smoked from elbow-length Cologne pipes , then he imagined the rafter as the most perfect image of a happy man. When these lucky men reached into their pockets, pulled out their hands full of large thalers, and played dice at a large rate of 5-10 guilders each, his head began to spin and he sadly trudged to his hut. After all, he saw with his own eyes how on some of the festive evenings one or the other of these "forest gentlemen" lost more than his poor father Munch earned in a year.

Especially outstanding were three of these men, about whom he positively did not know whom he should be more surprised at.

One was a fat, huge man with a red face. He was reputed to be the richest man in the area. His name was Fat Ezehiel. Every year he made two trips to Amsterdam with timber and was so lucky that he always sold more expensive than others. While everyone else walked home, he could ride a horse.

The other was the longest and thinnest man in the entire Black Forest, his name was Long Schmorker. Peter Munch also envied him for his extraordinary courage. He contradicted the most respected people. At least in the tavern they were already sitting in perfect cramped quarters, nevertheless he needed more space than for four fat ones, because he either leaned on the table with both elbows, or dragged one of his long legs to his bench, and yet no one did not dare to contradict him, because he had an inhuman amount of money.

The third was a handsome young man who danced the best, for which he received the nickname of the King of Dances. He used to be a poor man and worked as a laborer for a forest owner. Then he suddenly became rich. Some said that he found a pot full of money under an old spruce tree; others vouched with their heads that not far from Bingen on the Rhine, he picked up with a hook, with which rafters sometimes hunt fish, a bag of gold coins, and this bag was part of the huge treasure of the Nibelungen, which was hidden there. In a word, one day he became rich and began to enjoy such respect with the old and the small, as if he were a prince.

Sitting alone in a spruce forest, Peter the coal miner often thought of these three people. True, all three had one significant drawback that made them hateful to people - it was their inhuman stinginess, their cruelty to debtors and the poor, and the Black Forest people are good-natured people. But it is known what happens in such cases: although they were hated for their stinginess, they were respected for their money. Indeed, who could, like them, throw talers as if someone had shaken them off the oil?

“This cannot continue,” Peter once said to himself, greatly distressed, because the day before there was a holiday and all the people had gathered in the tavern. “If I don’t get well soon, I’ll do something bad to myself.” Oh, if I were as rich as Fat Ezekhiel, or as bold and strong as Long Schmorker, or if I were as famous and could throw a thaler instead of a kreutzer to musicians, like the King of Dances! Where did this guy get the money? "

He went over every possible means with which money could be purchased, but none smiled at him. Finally, legends came to him about people who, in time immemorial, became rich by the grace of the Dutchman Michel and the Glass Man. When his father was still alive, other poor people often came to visit him, and then they had long conversations about rich people and how they became rich. Often the Glass Man played the role here. Yes, if you thought carefully, you could remember the rhymes that need to be recited in the middle of the forest, on a hill covered with fir trees, and then a spirit will appear. They began like this:

Master of all treasures
Huge - old grandfather,
You live in a fir forest
You are many hundreds of years old!
Born on Sunday
I have to stand here,
To put you in the shadow ...

But no matter how he strained his memory, no matter how hard he tried, he could not recall a single verse further. Often he thought to go and ask some old man how this spell was read, but he was always held back by a certain fear of giving away his thoughts. In addition, he assumed that only a few could know this spell, because it enriched a few people. After all, why then should his father and other poor people not try their luck? Finally, one day he managed to talk about the spirit with his mother, and she told him what he already knew, and could also say only the first lines of the spell. However, in the end, she said that the spirit is only one who was born on Sunday between 12 and 2 o'clock. He himself could have used it splendidly if only he knew the spell, because he was born on Sunday at exactly 12 noon.

Upon learning of this, Peter Munch was almost beside himself with a passionate desire to take advantage of this chance. It seemed to him quite enough to know a part of the spell and be born on Sunday for the Glass Man to appear before him. Therefore, once having sold coal, he did not start a new fire, but putting on his father's frock coat and new red stockings and pulling on his festive hat, he took his five-foot blackthorn stick in his hand and said goodbye to his mother:

- I need to be in the city, in the presence. Since soon it will be necessary to draw lots of who should go to the soldiers, then I just want to remind you once again that you are a widow, and I am your only son.

His mother approved of his decision, and he went to the fir grove. This fir grove lay in the highest part of the Black Forest, and at a distance of two hours in the circle there was not a single village, not even a single hut, since superstitious people thought it was unclean. In that area, despite the fact that there were tall and excellent spruces, they were reluctant to cut them for firewood, because misfortunes often happened to the woodcutters who worked there: either the ax jumped off the ax and fell in the leg, or the trees fell too quickly and fell with them. people, crippled and even beaten to death. The best trees from there went only for firewood, and raftsmen never took a single trunk from a spruce forest for rafts, because there was a rumor that both a man and a tree could die if there is a spruce from this grove in the water. Hence it happened that in the spruce grove the trees were so thick and tall that even on a clear day it was almost night there. Peter Munch completely lost his courage there. He did not hear a single voice, no steps except his own, not a single blow from an ax; even the birds seemed to be avoiding this thick darkness of oil.

Here the coal-miner Peter reached the highest point of a spruce grove and stopped in front of a spruce with a huge girth, for which a Dutch sailor would have given many hundreds of guilders on the spot. "Probably," thought Peter, "the owner of the treasures lives here." Then he took off his big party hat, made a deep bow in front of the tree, cleared his throat and said in a trembling voice:

- I wish you a happy evening, Mr. Glass Man!

There was no answer to this, and everything was as quiet as before.

“Perhaps I need to say poetry,” he thought then and muttered:

Master of all treasures
Huge - old grandfather,
You live in a fir forest
You are many hundreds of years old!
Born on Sunday
I have to stand here,
To put you in the shadow ...

Having uttered these words, to his greatest horror, he saw that behind the thick spruce a small, outlandish figure peeped out. Judging by the descriptions, he saw exactly the Glass Man: a black coat, red stockings, a hat - everything was like that. He was even sure that he saw the pale, thin and intelligent face that he was told about. But alas! As quickly as this Glass Man peered out, he disappeared just as quickly.

- Mr. Glass Man! - Peter exclaimed after a while. - Be so kind, do not consider me a fool! Mr. Glass Man, if you think that I did not see you, then you are very mistaken: I perfectly saw how you looked out from behind the tree!

Again there is no answer, only behind the tree he seemed to hear a quiet, hoarse giggle. Finally, his impatience surpassed the timidity he still felt.

- Wait, kid! He shouted. - I'll catch you soon!

In one leap he found himself behind a spruce. But there was no spirit there, only a small tender squirrel instantly flew up a tree.

Peter Munch shook his head. He realized that if he had brought the spell to the last place and had not been mistaken only in the rhyme, he would have lured the Glass Man. But no matter how Peter thought, he could not find anything. A squirrel appeared on the lower branches of the spruce, and it seemed to him that she was either cheering him up or laughing. She washed herself, twirled her beautiful tail and looked at him with her intelligent eyes, so that, in the end, it became even scary for him to be alone with this animal. It seemed to him that the squirrel had a human head and was wearing a triangular hat, then again it was exactly the same as other squirrels, and only on its hind legs it had red stockings and black shoes. In a word, it was an amusing animal; however, Peter chilled, believing that the matter was unclean.

He came out of the grove much quicker than he came. The darkness of the spruce grove grew even blacker, the trees seemed to stand more often, and he became so scared that he started running from there and came to his senses only when he heard a dog barking in the distance and then saw smoke from the hut between the trees.

When he came closer and saw the people who were in the hut, he realized that out of fear he took the opposite direction and instead of the glaziers he got to the rafters. The people living in the hut turned out to be woodcutters: the old man, his son - the owner of the house and adult grandchildren. They welcomed Peter, who had asked for an overnight stay, without asking for his name or place of residence, and offered him apple wine, and in the evening a big black grouse, a favorite food of the Black Forest, was served.

After supper, the hostess and her daughters sat down with spinning wheels near a large torch, which the young people rubbed with the best spruce resin. The grandfather and the owner lit a cigarette and looked at the women, and the young people began to plan spoons and forks from wood. A storm howled in the forest and raged over the firs; every now and then sharp blows were heard, and it often occurred to one’s mind if not all the trees had fallen down and rumbled at once. Fearless young men wanted to run into the forest and look at this terrible and beautiful sight, but the stern look of their grandfather restrained them.

- I would not advise anyone to go out the door today! He shouted to them. - As God is holy, he will not come back. After all, tonight the Dutchman Michel is cutting a new log house for a raft in the forest.

The youth were surprised. True, they had already heard about the Dutchman Michel, but now they began to ask their grandfather to tell about him one more time. Peter Munch, who had only dimly heard the stories about the Dutchman Michel living on the other side of the forest, joined them and asked the old man who this Michel was and where he was from.

- He is the master of this forest. Since you do not yet know this at your age, I can conclude that you must have come from the other side of the fir grove, or even further away. So I will tell you what I know about the Dutchman Michel and how the legend says about him.

A hundred years ago, at least my grandfather told me, there was no people in the whole earth more honest than the Black Forest. Now that there is so much money in the country, people have become unscrupulous and bad. Young on Sundays dance, rampage and scold so that horror. It was different then, and if even now the Dutchman Michel looked here through the window, I will still say and will say constantly that it is he who is to blame for all this damage. So, for a hundred years or more there lived a wealthy rafter who had many workers. He traded extensively down the Rhine and was fortunate in his business because he was a godly man.

One evening a man approached his house, the likes of which he had never seen. He wore clothes like the rest of the Black Forest guys, but he was a whole head taller than everyone else. No one had ever suspected that there could be such giants. He asked the rafter for work, and the rafter, seeing that he was strong and could bear great weights, conspired with him about the payment. They shook hands. Mikhel turned out to be such a worker, which a rafting operator had not yet had. In the felling of trees, he was for three, and when six were dragged by one end of the tree, he carried one the other end.

Having chopped down for half a year, he once appeared to the owner and turned to him with a request. “I've cut enough trees here. I would like to see now where my trunks are going. Therefore, if you will allow me, is it possible for me to go on rafts at least once? " The rafter replied: “Michel, I would not want to go against your desire to see a little light; although for the felling I need strong people, like you, for example, and on the raft I need dexterity, but let it be your way ”.

And so it was. The raft on which he was to leave was eight links, and the last link had huge rafters. What happened? The night before, Michel had launched eight more logs, as thick and long as no one had ever seen. He dragged them over his shoulder as easily as if it were a raft pole, so everyone was amazed. Where he knocked them out - until now, no one knows. The rafter's heart rejoiced at the sight of such a sight, since he calculated how much such beams could cost. Mikhel said: "These are good enough for me to sail, but on those chips I would not go far."

In gratitude for this, the owner wanted to give him a pair of river boots, but he threw them aside and brought a pair of those that cannot be obtained anywhere. My grandfather assured me that they weighed a hundred pounds and were five feet long.

The raft sailed, and if earlier Michel amazed the woodcutters, now the rafters were amazed too. Indeed, the raft, which consisted of huge beams, seemed to have to go quieter along the river. In fact, he flew like an arrow, as soon as they entered the Neckar. When cornering on the Neckar, raftsmen used to work hard to keep the raft in the middle and not run into rocks or stranded. Now Michel jumped into the water every time, at one stroke he moved the raft to the left or to the right, and the raft safely glided further. If the place was even, then he ran to the first raft, forced everyone to take the poles, rested his huge pole against the stone, and from one of his push the raft flew so that the earth, trees and villages flickered. Thus they arrived in Cologne, where they had previously sold their cargo, in half the time that they usually used for this distance. But here Michel said: “You merchants, in my opinion, are good, but you are missing your profit. Do you think that the people of Cologne themselves consume all the forest that comes from the Black Forest? Not! They buy it from you for half the price, and they themselves sell it to Holland at a much higher price. Let's sell small logs here, and with large ones we will go to Holland. What we gain in excess of the usual price will be in our own favor. "

So said the crafty Michel, and the others did not mind: some would willingly visit Holland to see it, others for money.

Only one single person turned out to be honest and advised them not to endanger the owner's property and not to deceive the owner with higher prices. But they did not obey him and his words were forgotten. Only the Dutchman Michel did not forget them. We went with the forest down the Rhine. Michel led the rafts and quickly brought them to Rotterdam. There they were offered four times the previous price; especially large sums of money were paid for the enormous beams of the Michel. At the sight of such money, the Black Forest could hardly recover from joy.

Mikhel divided one part to the owner, and divided the other three among the workers. Then they sat down with the sailors and various rabble in taverns and squandered all their money. And the honest worker who discouraged them was sold by the Dutchman Michel to a slave trader and nothing else was heard of him. Since then, for the Black Forest guys, Holland has become a paradise, and the Dutchman Michel - the king. The raftsmen for a long time did not know anything about their adventures, and in the meantime, money, abuse, bad customs, drunkenness and games were coming from Holland. When this story was revealed, the Dutchman Michel disappeared somewhere, but he did not die. For about a hundred years he has been sophisticated in his tricks while living in the forest, and they say that he has already helped many to become rich, but only at the cost of their unfortunate souls. I can say nothing more. It is only known that even to this time, on such stormy nights, he chooses the best spruces for himself in the spruce forest, where no one chops. My father saw him break one, four feet thick, like a reed. He endows them with those who, turning away from the honest path, go to him. At midnight they knock down the log cabins into the water, and he sails with them to Holland. But if I were the lord and king of Holland, I would have ordered to smash it with grapeshot, because all ships in which there is at least one beam from the Dutchman Michel must perish. This is where it comes from that we hear so often about shipwrecks. How can a beautiful, sturdy ship the size of a church really go to the bottom? But every time, on a stormy night, the Dutchman Michel chops down a spruce in the Black Forest, one of the logs he cut down jumps out of the ship's hull, water immediately penetrates there, and the ship with people and all the cargo dies. This is the legend about the Dutchman Michel, and it is true that all evil comes from him. Oh, he can enrich! - added the old man with a mysterious look. “But I would not like to have anything from him. For no amount of money, I would not agree to hang out in the shoes of Fat Ezehiel or Long Schmorker! And the King of Dances must have sold out to him!

As the old man spoke, the storm subsided. The girls fearfully lit the lamps and left. The men put a bag of leaves instead of a pillow on the couch for Peter Munch and wished him good night.

Never before had a coal miner had such painful dreams as on that night. He saw that the gloomy giant Michel with a noise opens the window and with his huge hand stretches out a purse full of gold coins, shakes them, and they sound loud and tempting. He saw that a small friendly Glass Man entered the room on a long green bottle, and it seemed to him that he again hears a hoarse laugh, as in a fir forest. Then in his left ear was heard:

There is gold in Holland
Take it, who is not a fool!
Gold, gold
And it's worth a trifle!

Then again in his right ear he heard a song about the owner of treasures in a green forest and a gentle voice whispered to him:

“Stupid coal miner Peter, stupid Peter Munch, you cannot find a single rhyme for the word“ stand, ”and you were also born on Sunday at twelve o'clock. Pick up, stupid Peter, pick up! .. "

He sighed and groaned in a dream and was all exhausted, looking for a rhyme, but since in his life he did not write a single verse, his work in a dream was in vain. When he woke up at dawn, the dream seemed very strange to him. Clutching his hands, he sat down at the table and began to think about the whispers that had lodged in his ears. "Pick up, stupid Peter, pick up!" He said to himself, tapping his forehead with his finger, but still not a single rhyme entered his head.

While he was sitting, looking gloomily in front of him and coming up with a rhyme for "stand," three guys walked past the house into the woods. One of them sang on the go:

It happened to me to stand over the mountain valley, -
I had to see her there for the last time! ..

As if a bright lightning pierced this song Peter's ears, and, jumping up from his place, rushed out of the house, believing that he did not hear it very well. Having caught up with the three guys, he quickly grabbed the singer by the sleeve.

- Stop, friend! He exclaimed. - What is the rhyme for "stand"? Do me a favor, tell me how you sang.

- What are you attached to, boy? - objected the Black Forest. - I can sing what I want. Now let go of my hand, or ...

- No, you tell me what you sang! - Peter shouted almost beside himself, grabbing him even tighter.

At the sight of this, the two others, without thinking twice, attacked poor Peter with their strong fists and crumpled him so well that he let go of the third's clothes in pain and, exhausted, fell to his knees.

- Now I got mine! They said with a laugh. “And mind you, madman, never attack people like us on the open road.

- Oh, of course, I will remember that! - answered Peter sighing. “But after I was beaten, please tell me exactly what he sang.

They started laughing and teasing him again. However, the one who sang the song told it to Peter, and they went on with laughter and singing.

- So, "to see" - said the unfortunate beaten, with difficulty getting up. - "See" to "stand". Now, Glass Man, we'll talk again.

He went to the hut, took his hat and a long stick and, saying goodbye to the inhabitants of the house, set off on the way back to the fir grove. Quietly and thoughtfully he walked along the road, as he had to come up with another rhyme. Finally, having entered the very forest, where the fir trees became higher and thicker, he came up with this rhyme and even jumped up for joy.

At this time, a huge man in the clothes of a rafter came out from behind a spruce, holding in his hand a pole the length of a mast. Seeing that he was walking alongside with his long legs, Peter Munch almost fell to his knees: he realized that this was none other than the Dutchman Michel. Although the strange figure was still silent, Peter at times squinted at her with fear. Michel's head was much larger than that of the tallest man Peter had ever seen; the face was not very young, but not old either, all covered with folds and wrinkles. Mikhele was wearing a canvas caftan and huge boots, worn over leather trousers and well known to Peter according to legend.

- Peter Munch, what are you doing in the spruce grove? The king of the forest finally asked in a dull, menacing voice.

“Good morning, fellow countryman,” replied Peter, wanting to appear fearless and at the same time trembling violently. - I want to go home through the fir grove.

- Peter Munch, - he objected, casting a piercing, terrible look at him, - your path does not go through this oak grove.

“Well, that doesn't mean anything,” said Peter, “it's something hot today, so I think it will be cooler here.

“Don’t lie, Peter the coal miner,” shouted the Dutchman Michel in a thunderous voice, “or I’ll put you down with a pole! Do you think I have not seen how you begged the baby? He added quietly. - Well, well, this thing is stupid, and it's good that you didn't know the spell. He is a curmudgeon, this little one, and will give a little; but to whom he gives, he will not be glad of life either. Peter, you're a poor fool, and I really feel sorry for you. Such an agile and glorious fellow could do anything decent in the world, and you must burn coal. While others are shaking large thalers and ducats out of their sleeves, you can spend as little as twelve pfennigs! This is a pitiful life!

- It's right. You are right - a miserable life!

- So, perhaps, I don't care, - continued the terrible Mikhel. - I have already helped many fellows to get out of need, and you will not be the first. Tell me, how many hundred thalers do you need for the first time?

At these words, he began to pour money in his huge pocket, and they sounded just like that night in a dream. But Peter's heart sank fearfully and painfully. He was thrown into the cold, then into the heat, since the Dutchman Michel did not have the appearance to give money out of compassion, without demanding anything for it. Then Peter remembered the old man's words full of mysterious meaning about rich people, and under the influence of inexplicable anxiety and apprehension he shouted:

- I humbly thank you, sir! Only with you I do not want to deal, I already know you! - And he started to run with all his might.

But the forest spirit with its huge steps walked alongside, muttering dully and gloomily, to him:

- You will regret it, Peter, you will come to me again. It is written on your forehead and can be read in your eyes. You won't slip away from me, don't run so soon. Hear only a reasonable word, otherwise my domain is already ending there.

But as soon as Peter heard this and saw at that time a small ditch not far from him, he added more speed in order to cross the line of the possessions, so that in the end Michel was forced to run after him, showering him with curses and abuse. As soon as the young man saw that the forest spirit swung its pole with the intention of putting Peter in place, he jumped over the moat with a desperate jump. He was already safely on the other side, and the pole split in the air, as if against an invisible wall, and only a long piece fell just near Peter.

Triumphantly, Peter raised him, intending to throw him back to the terrible Michel. At that moment, he felt that a piece of wood was moving in his hand, and to his horror he saw that he was holding a huge snake in his hand, which was rising to him with its slobbering tongue and sparkling eyes. He wanted to release her, but the snake coiled around his arm and was already approaching his face, tossing its head. Just at that time, a huge black grouse rustled and, grabbing the snake by the head with its beak, rose into the air with it. The Dutchman Michel, seeing all this from the other side of the moat, began to howl, scream and growl when the snake was caught by a huge bird.

Exhausted and trembling, Peter started off. The path became steeper, and the terrain became wilder, and he soon found himself in front of a huge spruce. Having made, as yesterday, bow to the invisible Glass Man, he said:

Master of all treasures
Huge - old grandfather,
You live in a fir forest
You are many hundreds of years old!
Born on Sunday
I have to stand here,
To put you in the shadow
Woody to see.

- Although you guessed and not quite right, but let it be so, - said a gentle, thin voice near him.

In amazement, Peter looked around: under a magnificent spruce tree sat a small, old man in a black caftan, red stockings and a large hat on his head. He had a thin, affable face with a beard as tender as a spider's web. He smoked - and it seemed very strange! - from a blue glass tube. When Peter stepped closer, he saw to his great amazement that the baby's clothes, shoes, and hat were all made of painted glass, but it was flexible, as if it were still warm, and with every movement of the little man it folded like cloth.

- Have you met this penny, Dutch Michel? He said, coughing strangely at every word. - He thought to scare you well, only I took away from him his wonderful club, which he will never get back.

“Yes, master of the treasures,” replied Peter with a low bow, “I got cold feet. But weren't you the black grouse that pecked the snake to death? In that case, I am sincerely grateful to you. But I came with the purpose of getting advice from you. My life is bad and difficult - a coal miner cannot save very much. I'm still young. So I also think that maybe something better will come out of me. Whenever I look at others, I see how much they have already saved in a short time. Take, for example, Ezehiel or the King of Dances - they have money like hay!

- Peter! - said the baby very seriously and blew smoke from his pipe far around. - Peter! Don't tell me anything about them. What if they are here for several years as if happy; after that they will be all the more unhappy. You must not despise your craft. Your father and grandfather were honest people and at the same time engaged in him, Peter Munch. I hope it was not a love of idleness that brought you to me.

Peter was frightened by the serious tone of the Man and blushed.

“No,” he said, “idleness, I know that very well, is the mother of all vices; but you cannot blame me that I like any other position more than my own. The coal miner is considered in the world for some kind of insignificance, while glaziers, rafters, and indeed everyone, are much more respected.

- Arrogance does not lead to any good, - the small owner of the spruce forest objected somewhat more amiably. - You people are amazing people! Few are completely satisfied with the situation in which they were born and raised. And what will happen: if you become a glazier, you will willingly wish to be a raftsman, and if you become a raftsman, you will want a job as a forester or foreman ... But so be it! If you give your word to work properly, then I will help you, Peter, to achieve something better. I usually fulfill the three wishes of every Sunday born who knows how to find me. The first two are optional. In the third, I can refuse if it is stupid. Thus, wish yourself something, only, Peter, something good and useful.

- Ah! You are the most beautiful Glass Man, and you are quite rightly called the owner of the treasures, because the treasures are with you. Well, if I really dare to wish for what my heart longs for, then, firstly, I want to dance even better than the King of Dances, and constantly have in my pocket as much money as Fat Ezekhiel.

- You are a fool! - the baby exclaimed angrily. - What a pathetic desire to be able to dance perfectly and have money to play. And are you not ashamed, stupid Peter, to be deceived about your own happiness? What good is it for you and your poor mother if you can dance? What is the use of money, which, according to your desire, is only needed for the tavern and which, like the King of Dances, will remain there? But for a whole week you will again have nothing and you will need, as before. I leave one more wish at your discretion, but look, wish for something more reasonable!

Peter scratched behind his ear and after some delay said:

- Well, I want to run the best and richest glass factory in the entire Black Forest, with all the accessories and capital.

- Nothing more? - asked the little one with a preoccupied look. - Nothing more, Peter?

- Well, you, maybe ... maybe add a horse and a cart ...

- Oh, stupid coal miner! - exclaimed the little one indignantly and so grabbed the thick spruce with his glass tube that it shattered into a hundred pieces. - "Horse"! "The carriage"! Reason, I tell you, reason, healthy human reason and prudence you should have wished for, not a horse with a cart! Well, do not be so sad, we will still try not to harm you. After all, the second wish, in general, was not stupid. A good glass factory will feed its owner; only if you, moreover, could take common sense and prudence with you, then the cart and horse would probably appear by themselves.

- But the master is the owner of the treasures, - Peter objected, - I still have one more desire. In this case, I could wish for myself and reason, if I really need it, as you think.

- No, that's enough. You will still undergo many difficult circumstances in which you will rejoice if you have one more desire in store. Now hit the road home. Here, - said the little spirit of oil, taking a small purse out of his pocket, - there are two thousand guilders here, and that's enough. Do not come back to me with a demand for money, because in that case I will have to hang you on the highest spruce. This is the rule I have followed since the time I live in the forest. Old Winkfritz, who had a large glass factory in Unterwald, died three days ago. Go there and offer to buy the case as it should be. Conduct yourself well, be diligent, and I will sometimes visit you and help you in word and deed, since you did not ask for reason at all. Only your first desire - I am telling you seriously - was bad. Avoid going to the tavern, Peter, it hasn't done anyone well yet!

At these words, the little man pulled out a new pipe from the wonderful glass, stuffed it with dry cones of spruce and put it in a small, toothless mouth. Then he took out a huge fire glass and went out into the sun to light a pipe. Having finished with this, he kindly extended his hand to Peter, gave some more good advice on the way, lit a cigarette and, puffing his pipe faster and faster, disappeared, finally, into a cloud of smoke that smelled of real Dutch tobacco and slowly disappeared at the top of the spruce.

Arriving home, Peter found his mother very concerned about his absence. A kind woman only thought that her son was taken into the army. But he was cheerful and in good spirits. He told her that he had met his good friend in the forest, who loaned him money so that instead of burning coals he would start some other business. Although his mother lived for about thirty years in the house of a coal-miner and was accustomed to the sight of smoky people, just as a miller's wife to her husband's face covered in flour, she was still vain, and as soon as Peter pointed out to her a more brilliant fate, she began to treat with contempt for the former situation and said:

- Yes, as the mother of a man who owns a glass factory, I will be something other than neighbors Greta and Beta, and for the future I will sit in front of the church, where decent people are sitting.

Her son soon bargained with the heirs of the glass factory. He left behind the workers whom he found, and began to make glass day and night. At first he liked this lesson very much. As a rule, he went down to the factory with convenience, walked everywhere with an important air, thrusting his hands into his pockets, poking around here and there, or pointing to one or the other, and his workers often made fun of him. For him, the greatest joy was to watch the glass blown out, and he often asked himself a job and made bizarre figures from a still soft mass. However, he soon got bored with work, and at first he began to come to the factory for only one hour a day, then on two days, finally, only once a week, and his workers did what they wanted. All this came only from visiting the tavern.

On Sunday, returning from the spruce grove, Peter went to the tavern. There, the King of Dances was already jumping in the ballroom, and Fat Ezekhiel was already sitting at a mug and playing dice for thalers. Peter immediately grabbed his pocket to make sure that the Glass Man kept his word, and made sure that the pockets were full of gold and silver. And in the legs something twitched and itched, as if they wanted to dance and jump. When the first dance ended, Peter stood with his lady in front, against the King of Dances, and if the latter jumped up three feet, then Peter took off by four, if he did amazing and sophisticated steps, then Peter twisted and trembled with his legs so that the audience a little did not lose their temper with admiration and amazement. When a rumor spread in the dance hall that Peter had bought a glass factory, and when they saw that he often threw at the gold musicians, dancing around them, there was no end to the surprise. Some assumed that he found a treasure in the forest, others thought that he received an inheritance, but now everyone began to treat him with respect and consider him a decent person only because he had money. Although that evening he lost twenty guilders, nevertheless there was such a thunder and clink in his pocket, as if there were still a hundred thalers.

When Peter noticed how honored he was, he could not recover from joy and pride. He scattered money with a generous hand, richly endowing the poor, as he still remembered how poverty once oppressed him. The art of the King of Dance was dimmed by the supernatural agility of the new dancer, and Peter was now dubbed the Emperor of Dance. Sunday's bravest gamblers didn't risk as big as he did, but they didn't lose as much either. And the more he lost, the more money he got. But it was done exactly as he asked the little Glass Man. He always wished to have in his pocket as much money as Tolstoy Ezekhiel, to whom he lost his money. If he was losing 20-30 guilders at once, then as soon as Ezekhiel raked them in for himself, Peter again had exactly the same amount in his pocket. Little by little, he went further in revelry and play than the worst people in the Black Forest, and they began to call him more often Peter the Gambler, and not the Emperor of Dances, because now he played almost all days of the week. As a result, his glass factory gradually fell into decay, and the fault of this was Peter's recklessness. He ordered to produce glass as much as possible, but he did not acquire a secret together with the plant, where it could be best sold. In the end, he did not know what to do with the mass of glass, and began selling it to itinerant merchants for half the price, just to be able to pay the workers.

One evening Peter was walking home from the tavern and, despite the fact that he drank a lot of wine to cheer himself up, he was thinking with horror and grief about the decline of his business. Suddenly he noticed that someone was walking beside him. He turned around, and what - it was the Glass Man. Peter was seized with a terrible anger. Gaining courage and importance, he began to swear that the baby was to blame for all his misfortune.

- What should I do with the horse and cart? He exclaimed. - What is the use of the factory and all my glass? I lived happier and without any worries when I was still a coal miner. And now I'm just waiting for the bailiff to come, describe my property and sell it at auction for debts.

“That's how it is,” said the Glass Man. - So that? So it’s my fault that you’re unhappy? Such is the gratitude for my good deeds? Who told you to wish such nonsense? Do you want to be a glass manufacturer and do not know where to sell glass? Didn't I tell you that you should have wished for discretion? You lack intelligence, Peter, reason!

- "Uma, reason"! - he exclaimed. - I am as smart as anyone else, and now I will prove it to you, Glass Man!

With these words, he roughly grabbed him shouting:

- Are you here or not, master of treasures in the green spruce forest? You must fulfill my third wish, which I will now say. So, I wish that at this very place there were two hundred thousand thalers, a house and ... ah! .. - he cried out and shook his hand.

This forest man turned into red-hot glass and burned his hand as if with a hot flame. But nothing could be seen from the little man himself.

For several days, the swollen hand reminded Peter of his ingratitude and stupidity. But then he stifled his conscience and said: “If they sell my glass factory and everything else, still I will still have Fat Ezekhiel. As long as I have money on Sundays, I will not need anything. "

Yes, Peter? But what if they are not there? This happened once, and it was an amazing incident. One Sunday he arrived at the tavern. Some stuck their heads out the windows. One said: “Here comes Peter the Gambler,” the other: “Yes, this is the Emperor of Dances, a wealthy glass manufacturer,” and the third shook his head and said: “Well, you can still argue about wealth; everywhere they talk about his debts, and in the city one person said that the bailiff would not hesitate long with the inventory. " At this time, Peter importantly bowed to the guests who were looking out of the window, and getting off the cart shouted:

- Good evening, dear host! Is Fat Ezehiel here already?

- Come here, Peter! A place has been prepared for you, and we are already here and behind the maps.

Peter Munch entered the room and, putting his hand in his pocket, realized that Ezechiel must have stocked himself well, because his own pocket was full to the brim.

He sat down at the table with the others and began to play, losing and winning.

So they played until, at nightfall, the other good people left for their homes. They began to play by candlelight, until at last two other players said, “Now that's enough. We need to go home to our wives and children. " But Peter began to persuade Tolstoy Ezekhiel to stay. He did not agree for a long time, finally exclaimed:

- Okay, now I will count the money, and then we will play! The stake is five guilders, since less is child's play.

He took out his wallet and counted. There was one hundred guilders in cash. And Peter now knew how much he had himself, and did not need to count. Although Ezekhiel had won before, but now he was losing bet after bet, swearing at the same time mercilessly. If he threw an even number of points, Peter threw the same and always two more points. Then Ezechiel finally put the last five guilders on the table and shouted:

- Well, one more time, and if I lose now, I will no longer listen to you! And then you will lend me out of your winnings, Peter. An honest person is obliged to help another.

- As much as you want, even a hundred guilders! - said the Emperor of Dances, rejoicing at his win.

Fat Ezekhiel shook the bones carefully and threw out fifteen.

- Now we'll see! He exclaimed.

But Peter rolled out eighteen. Just then, a familiar husky voice spoke behind him:

- This is the last time!

He looked around: behind him stood the huge Dutchman Michel. Out of horror, Peter released money, which he had already raked in before. But Fat Ezekhiel did not see the spirit of the forest and demanded that Peter lend him ten guilders for the game. As in a dream, Peter put his hand into his pocket, but there was no money there. He looked in another pocket. Finding nothing there, he turned his coat inside out, but not a single copper penny fell out of there either. It was only then that he remembered his first desire - to always have as much money as Tolstoy Ezehiel has. Everything disappeared like smoke.

The owner and Ezekhiel watched in amazement as he kept looking for money and could not find it, and did not want to believe that he had nothing else. But when at last they themselves searched his pockets, they got angry and began to swear that Peter was an evil sorcerer and that all the money won and his own were transferred at his request to his house. Peter stubbornly denied this, but the evidence was against him. Ezekhiel said that he would tell everyone in the Black Forest this terrible story, and the owner gave his word that tomorrow he would go to the city and report to Peter that he was a sorcerer. He added that he hopes to live to see the day when Peter will be burned. Then they violently pounced on him and, tearing off his caftan, pushed him out the door.

Not a single star shone in the sky as Peter walked sadly towards his dwelling, but he could make out a dark figure walking next to him, which finally spoke:

“Now, Peter, all your splendor has come to an end. But I already told you about this once, when you didn't want to hear anything from me and ran to this stupid glass dwarf. Now you can see what happens to someone who rejects my advice. But try to contact me, I sympathize with your fate. None of those who turned to me have yet repented of this, and if you are not afraid of this path, then tomorrow I will be in a fir grove all day to talk to you when you call me.

Although Peter knew perfectly well who was speaking to him in this way, fear fell upon him. Without answering, he set off home.

At these words, the narrator was interrupted by some noise in front of the tavern. One could hear that a carriage had arrived, several voices demanded fire, then there was a sharp knock at the gate, and in the midst of all this the dogs howled. The room reserved for the cab and the artisans faced the road. All four jumped up and rushed there to see what happened. As far as could be seen by the light of the lantern, a large road carriage stood in front of the tavern; a tall man had just helped two veiled ladies out of the carriage, while a coachman in livery was unhitching the horses and a servant was untiing a suitcase.

“God bless them,” the cabman said with a sigh. “If they come out of this tavern unharmed, then I have nothing to fear for my wagon.

“Hush,” the student said in a whisper. - It seems to me that they were not waiting for us, but for these ladies. It is very likely that they had been notified of their passage even earlier. If only you could warn them! Stop! In the whole tavern there is not a single suitable room for the ladies, except the one next to mine. They will be brought there. Stay calm in this room, and I will try to warn the servants.

The young man slipped into his room, put out the candles and left only the night lamp given to him by the hostess to burn. Then he began to listen near the door. Soon the hostess appeared on the stairs with the ladies, whom she, with friendly and affectionate words, led into the next room. She persuaded the visitors to go to bed as soon as possible, because they were tired of the journey. Then she went downstairs again. Following this, the student heard the heavy steps of a man climbing the stairs. He carefully opened the door and through a small crack saw the tall man who was dropping the ladies out of the carriage. He was wearing hunting clothes and a knife on the side; obviously it was a visiting footman or a companion of unknown ladies. When the student was convinced that he entered alone, he quickly opened the door and signaled to him, inviting him to enter. He walked closer in surprise and just wanted to ask what he wanted, the student whispered to him:

- Listen! On this night you find yourself in the inn of robbers.

The man got scared. The student led him completely out the door and told how everything in this house looks suspicious.

Hearing this, the servant became very anxious. He informed the young man that these ladies, the countess and her maid, at first wanted to go all night. But at a distance of half an hour from this inn, a horseman met them, who called them and asked where they were going. Hearing that they had decided to go through Spessart at night, he strongly discouraged this, as it is very dangerous at the present time. “If the advice of an honest man means anything to you,” he added, “then give up this thought. There is a tavern not far from here. Although it is, perhaps, very bad and uncomfortable, you better spend the night there than unnecessarily be exposed to danger on such a night. " The person who gave this advice looked very decent and honest, and the countess, fearing an attack by robbers, ordered them to go to this tavern.

The servant considered it his duty to inform the ladies of the danger they were exposed to. Going to another room, he soon then opened the door that led from the countess's room to the student. The countess, a woman of about forty, pale with fear, entered the student, asking him to repeat everything once more. Then, having advised what they should do in this precarious situation, they decided to send, as carefully as possible, two servants, a cab and artisans, so that in case of an attack they would defend themselves at least by common forces.

When this was done, the door from the corridor to the Countess's room was locked with a chest of drawers and barred with chairs. The Countess and her maid sat down on the bed, and two servants began to watch. And the former visitors and visiting lackeys sat down at the table in the student's room and decided to wait for danger. It was about ten o'clock, everything in the house became quiet and calm, and the guests had nothing to worry about.

Then the mechanic said:

- In order not to sleep, it would be best to do the same as before. We took turns telling some stories we knew, and if the Countess's servant didn't mind, then we could continue on.

But he not only had nothing against it, but, in order to show his readiness, he himself offered to tell something.

He started like this ...

Part two

When Peter came to his glass factory on Monday morning, there were not only workers there, but also other people who were not particularly welcomed, namely the bailiff and three court clerks. The bailiff wished Peter good morning and asked him how he slept, and then took out a long list in which Peter's creditors were identified.

- Can you pay or not? He asked, looking sternly at Peter. - Only, please, hurry up, otherwise I cannot spend a lot of time - it will take a good three hours to get to the city.

Peter refused, admitting that he had nothing else, and left the bailiff to describe the property, movable and immovable, the factory, stables, carriages and horses. While the servants and the bailiff were making rounds, examining and making an inventory, Peter thought that it was not far from the spruce grove.

- If the little one didn't help me, I'll try my luck with the big one!

And he set off so quickly to the spruce forest, as if the judges were following him on his heels. When he ran past the place where he first spoke with the Glass Man, it seemed to him that someone's invisible hand was holding him. But he dashed and ran on, up to that line, which he had noticed very well even earlier. As soon as he shouted, almost exhausted: "Dutchman Michel, Mr. Dutchman Michel!" - how a gigantic rafter with his pole appeared before him.

- Oh, did you come? He said with a laugh. “They must have wanted to skin you off and sell it for your creditors?” Well, be calm. All your grief comes, as I said, from the Glass Man, this renegade and hypocrite. If you are to give, then you have to give properly, and not like this curmudgeon. So let’s go, ”he continued, and turned to the forest,“ follow me to my house, there we’ll see if we’re bargaining. ”

“Are we bargaining? Thought Peter. - What will he demand from me and what can I sell him? Perhaps I will have to perform some kind of service for him, or whatever he wants? "

They went first up, along a steep forest path, then suddenly stopped at a deep, dark and steep ravine. The Dutchman Michel jumped off the cliff as if it were some kind of low marble ladder. But Peter almost fainted, because Michel, going downstairs, suddenly became as tall as a bell tower, and stretching out his hand to Peter the length of a mast tree, the palm of which was as wide as a tavern's table, he shouted in a voice that sounded like a funeral bell: “Sit down only with me on your hand and hold on to your fingers, then you won't fall! "

Trembling with fear, Peter obeyed the order: he fit in the palm of his hand and grasped the giant's thumb with all his might.

He began to sink lower and lower, but despite this, to his surprise, it did not get darker. On the contrary, in the ravine everything was getting brighter, so that Peter could not look at such a light for a long time. And the Dutchman Michel, as Peter descended, became lower and took on his former appearance when they found themselves in front of a house as small and good as the well-to-do peasants in the Black Forest have. The room Peter entered was no different from the rooms of other people, except that there was no one there. A wooden wall clock, a huge tiled stove, wide benches, utensils on the shelves - everything here was the same as everywhere else. Michel showed Peter a place at a large table; then he went out and soon returned with a jug of wine and glasses. He poured a drink and they chatted. Michel talked about people's joys, about foreign countries, about beautiful cities and rivers, so in the end Peter felt a passionate desire to see all this and frankly told the Dutchman about it.

“Even if you had the courage and desire to do something, your stupid heart would still make you shudder. Take, for example, an insult to honor, a misfortune over which a reasonable person should not be upset. Did you feel anything in your head when they called you a deceiver and a scoundrel yesterday? Did you feel pain in your stomach when the bailiff came to kick you out of the house? Well, tell me, where did you feel the pain?

“In my heart,” Peter said, putting his hand to his chest that was rising with excitement. It seemed to him that his heart was about to jump out.

“You — don’t blame me for this — scattered many hundreds of guilders to worthless beggars and various rabble! What's the use to you? Did they wish you health and God's blessing for it? So, but did it make you healthier? For half that wasted money, you could keep a doctor. A blessing ... yes, a blessing is good if your property is described and yourself kicked out! And what made you go into your pocket as soon as some beggar held out his tattered hat? Nothing but your heart, and only your heart! Not the tongue, not the hands, not the legs, but the heart. It was with you, as it is rightly said, that you took everything too close to heart.

- But how can you get used to it so that it doesn't happen again? Right now I am trying to restrain my heart, but nevertheless it beats like that, and it’s hard for me.

- Where can you go, poor fellow, - exclaimed Mikhel with a laugh, - to do something here! Give me this barely beating little thing - then you will see how good it will be for you!

- To you? Heart? - Peter exclaimed in horror. - So that I die on the spot? Never!

- Yes, if you thought of removing the heart from the body of one of your gentlemen surgeons, then, of course, you would have to die. As for me, that's another matter! Here, come in and see for yourself.

With these words he got up, opened the door and led Peter into another room. Peter's heart sank as he stepped over the threshold, but he did not pay attention to it - so was struck by the strange sight that presented itself to him. On several wooden shelves were bottles filled with a clear liquid, each containing a heart, and the bottles were labeled with inscriptions that Peter began to read with curiosity.

Here was the heart of the bailiff in F., the heart of Tolstoy Ezekhiel, the heart of the King of Dances, the heart of the chief forester; there are six tradesmen's hearts, eight are recruiting officers, three are stockbrokers; in a word, it was a collection of the most respected hearts at twenty hours in circumference.

- Look! - said the Dutchman Michel. - All of them have thrown off life worries and worries. None of these hearts are beating anxiously and anxiously anymore, and their former owners feel great, having kicked out restless guests from their home.

- But what do they all carry in their chests instead of them? - asked Peter, whose head was spinning from all this.

- That's what, - answered Mikhel, taking the stone heart out of the box.

- How? - said Peter, feeling that he was seized by a shiver. - Heart of stone? But listen, Mister Dutchman Michel, should it be very cold in your chest from this?

- Very nice and cool. Why should the heart be hot? In winter, such warmth will not be beneficial, a glorious cherry tree will rather help than a warm heart. When it is stuffy and hot everywhere, you cannot imagine how cool it is with such a heart. As already mentioned, with him you will not feel any anxiety, or fear, or this stupid compassion, or any other sadness.

"Is that all you can give me?" - Peter said in a displeased tone. - I was hoping for money, and you give me a stone!

“Well, I think a hundred thousand guilders will be enough for you the first time. If you deftly put them into circulation, you can soon become a millionaire.

- One hundred thousand! - Peter exclaimed happily. - Well, do not knock so madly in my chest, soon we will be done with each other. Okay, Michel! Give me a stone and money, and you can take this restless thing out of the case.

“I thought you were a reasonable guy,” the Dutchman answered with a friendly smile. - Let's go, let's drink one more, and then I'll count the money to you.

They sat down again in the first room for wine and drank, until Peter fell into a deep sleep.

The coal miner woke up at the cheerful sound of the post horn and saw that he was sitting in a beautiful carriage and driving along a wide road. Looking out of the carriage, he saw the Black Forest lying behind, in the blue distance. At first he did not want to believe that it was he himself who was sitting in the carriage, since even his clothes were not at all what he wore yesterday. But then he remembered everything so clearly that he finally gave up thinking about all this and exclaimed:

- Yes, of course, it's me, Peter the coal miner, and no one else!

He was surprised at himself that he could not feel sorrow at all, although now for the first time he was leaving his quiet homeland and from the forests where he had lived for so long. Even thinking about his mother, now left without any help and in poverty, he could not squeeze a single tear from his eyes, or even breathe. All this was so indifferent to him. “Yes, it’s true,” he said after a while, “tears and sighs, homesickness and sadness emanate from the heart, and my heart - thanks to the Dutchman Michel - is cold and stone.”

He put his hand to his chest, but there it was completely calm and nothing moved.

“If he kept his word with regard to a hundred thousand as well as with respect to his heart, then I can only rejoice,” he said and began to examine the carriage. He found every kind of dress he could wish for, but there was no money. Finally, thrusting his hand into his pocket, he found many thousands of thalers in gold and in receipts for trading houses in all the big cities. “Now I have everything I wanted,” he thought, and, sitting more comfortably in the corner of the carriage, continued on his way.

For two years he drove around the world, looking around from his carriage at the buildings. Stopping somewhere, he looked only at the hotel sign, and then went through the city and examined the outstanding sights. But nothing pleased him: no pictures, no houses, no music, no dances. His heart of stone took no part in this. His eyes and ears were closed to all that was beautiful. He had no choice but to love food, drink and sleep. He lived like that, driving around the world aimlessly, taking food to pass the time, and falling asleep from boredom. However, from time to time he recalled that he was happier and happier when he was still poor and had to work to maintain his existence. Then every beautiful view of the valley, music or singing amused him. Then for hours on end he happily thought about the simple dinner that his mother was supposed to bring to his bonfire. When he thought about the past in such a way, it seemed to him completely incomprehensible that now he could not laugh at all, whereas before he laughed at the most trivial joke. When others laughed, he only crooked his mouth out of politeness, but his heart did not laugh. Then, he felt that although he was calm, he could not consider himself satisfied. It was not homesickness or sadness, but emptiness, boredom, a bleak existence. All this finally made him return to his homeland.

When on the way from Strasbourg he saw the dark forest of his homeland, when for the first time he again saw strong figures and the friendly, trusting faces of the Black Forest, when his ear caught the familiar sounds, sharp and low, but at the same time pleasant, he quickly felt his heart, because the blood began to circulate more strongly, and thought that now he would be glad and cry, but - how could he be such a fool! After all, his heart was made of stone, and the stones are dead. They don't cry or laugh.

First of all he went to the Dutchman Michel, who received him with the same cordiality.

“Michel,” said Peter, “I've traveled a lot and seen enough of everything, but it's all nonsense, and I just missed it. Generally speaking, your stone thing, which I carry in my chest, protects me from a lot. I am not angry, not upset, but at the same time I never feel joy, and it seems to me that I live, as it were, only half. Can't you make this heart of stone a little livelier? Or give me my old heart better. After all, during twenty-five years I got used to him. If it did some stupid thing to me sometimes, it was still a kind and cheerful heart.

The forest spirit laughed sternly and viciously.

- When you die one fine time, Peter Munch, - he answered, - then it will return to you. Then you will again have a soft, sensitive heart, and you will feel what will befall you - joy or suffering. But here on earth, it can no longer be yours! However, here's the thing, Peter. You have traveled a lot, but your lifestyle could not benefit you. Settle down here somewhere in the forest now, build a house, get married, put capital into circulation. All you lacked was work, which is why you were bored, and you blame it all on this innocent heart.

Peter, seeing that Michel was right in speaking of idleness, decided to become richer. Mikhel this time gave him one hundred thousand guilders and parted with him as with a good friend.

Soon in the Black Forest, word spread that the coal miner Peter, or Peter the Gambler, had reappeared, and that he was even richer than before. And now it happened just as it always does. When Peter reached poverty, he was pushed out the door in the tavern, and when now one Sunday, after dinner, he went there, they shook his hands, praised his horse, asked about the journey. And when he started playing with Fat Ezehiel again for cash, the respect for him was the same as before. Now he was no longer engaged in the production of glass, but started a timber trade, however, only for show. His main occupation was the grain trade and the return of money at interest. Little by little, half of the Black Forest was in debt to him, but he lent money for only ten percent, and sold bread at three times the price to the poor, who could not pay right away. He was now in close friendship with the bailiff, and if someone did not pay Mr. Peter Munch on time, the bailiff came with his police officers, described movable and immovable property, quickly sold it and drove fathers, mothers and children into the forest. At first, all this gave rich Peter some trouble, because the poor people who owed him in droves besieged his doors. Men begged for mercy, women tried to soften his stone heart in some way, and children crying asked for a piece of bread. But when he got some big dogs, the “cat music,” as he called it, soon stopped. As soon as he whistled and set the dogs on, all these beggars scattered screaming in different directions. Especially a lot of trouble was brought to him by one "old woman". It was none other than the widow Munch, Peter's mother. When all her property was sold out, she fell into terrible poverty, but her son, returning back a rich man, did not even inquire about her. Now she sometimes came to his house, old, weak, leaning on a stick. She did not dare to enter the house, because once he drove her out. No matter how bitter it was for her to live by the good deeds of strangers, when her own son could arrange for her a carefree old age, his cold heart never felt pity at the sight of her pale, familiar features, sorrowful looks, an emaciated outstretched hand and her whole decrepit figure ... When she knocked on the door on Saturday, Peter grumblingly took out a coin, wrapped it in paper and sent it out with the servant. He heard her trembling voice, thanking him and wishing him all earthly blessings, heard her coughing along from the door, but at the same time he thought only that she had again wasted the coin in vain.

Finally, it came to Peter's mind to marry. He knew that throughout the Black Forest any father would willingly marry his daughter to him. Nevertheless, he found it very difficult to choose, since he wanted everyone to praise his happiness and skill in this matter. He went everywhere, looked everywhere, and none of the Black Forest girls seemed quite beautiful to him. Finally, having reviewed in vain all the beauties at the dance evenings, he heard that a poor woodcutter had a daughter, the most beautiful and virtuous girl in the whole Black Forest. She lives quietly and modestly, actively and diligently leads her father's household and never shows up at balls, even on Trinity Day or on church holidays. Hearing about this miracle of the Black Forest, Peter decided to marry her and went to the hut to which he was indicated. The father of the beautiful Lisbeth met the important gentleman with amazement and was even more amazed to hear that this was the rich man Peter and that he wanted to become his son-in-law. He did not hesitate for long, believing that now his worries and poverty had come to an end, and gave his consent without even asking the beautiful Lisbeth. And the kind girl was so obedient that she became Peter's wife without any objection.

But the poor girl did not live as well as she imagined. She thought that she knew the farm well, but meanwhile she could in no way deserve Peter's gratitude. She felt compassion for poor people, and since her husband was rich, she did not consider it a sin to give the poor woman some pfennig or give the old man some wine to drink. But one day Peter, noticing this, said to her in a rough voice, looking angrily at her:

- Why are you squandering my goods to beggars and vagabonds? Have you brought anything to the house to give away? When your father was poor, it was impossible to cook soup, and now you, like a princess, are throwing money around. If I catch you again, you will have to try my fist!

The beautiful Lisbeth cried in her room because of her husband's harsh disposition, and more than once she wanted to go home, to live in her father's poor hut, than to be the mistress of the rich but mean and cruel Peter. She, of course, would not be surprised if she knew that his heart was made of stone and that it could not love anyone. When she was now sitting at the door, every time a beggar passed by and, taking off her hat, began to beg, she closed her eyes so as not to see the need, and squeezed her hand tighter, fearing that she would involuntarily sink into her pocket for kreutzer. It got to the point that the beautiful Lisbeth was denounced throughout the Black Forest, saying that she was even more stingy than Peter Munch.

One day she was sitting with a spinning wheel near the house and humming a song. This time she was more cheerful, because the weather was fine, and Peter left for the field. At that time, an old man with a large and heavy sack was walking along the road, and from a distance she could hear him groaning. Lisbeth looked at him sympathetically, thinking that she shouldn't have burdened the old, weak man so heavily.

And meanwhile the old man, groaning and staggering, came closer and, having caught up with Lisbeth, almost fell under the weight of the sack.

- Ah, have pity, lady, give me one sip of water! - he said. - I cannot go further, I am dying of exhaustion!

“You shouldn't have carried such weights at your age,” said Lisbeth.

“Yes, if I didn’t have to earn my living,” he replied. “After all, a rich woman like you doesn’t even know how hard poverty is and how pleasant a sip of fresh water is in such heat.

Hearing this, Lisbeth ran into the house, took out a mug from the shelf and poured water into it. Nr, returning back, she, not reaching the old man a few steps, saw how unhappy and exhausted he was sitting on the sack, and felt deep compassion for him. Remembering that her husband was not at home, she put the mug of water aside, took a glass and filled it with wine, and then cut off a large slice of rye bread and brought it all to the old man.

- There you are! A sip of wine will do you more good than water because you are very old, ”she said. - Just drink slowly and eat bread.

The old man looked at her in amazement, and large tears glistened in his eyes. He drank and said:

- I have grown old, but I have seen not many people who would be so compassionate and would be able to do their good deeds so cordially as you, Mrs. Lisbeth. But for this you will be rewarded on earth. Such a heart cannot remain without a reward!

- And she will receive this award now! - Someone's terrible voice rang out.

When they looked around, they saw that it was Peter Munch with a face red as blood.

“Do you even pour my best wine for the poor and bring my glass to the lips of a tramp?” So that! So here's your reward!

Lisbeth fell at his feet, begging to forgive her, but a stone heart knows no compassion. Peter turned over the whip that was in his hand, and with the ebony hilt struck Lisbeth so hard on the beautiful forehead that she fell lifeless into the old man's arms.

Seeing this, Peter felt, as it were, repentance for his deed. He bent down to see if she was still alive, but at that time the old man spoke in a familiar voice:

- Don't bother, Peter the coal miner! It was the most beautiful and wondrous flower in the Black Forest, but you trampled it, and it will never bloom again!

All the blood drained from Peter's face, and he said:

- So it is you, master of the treasure? Well, what happened cannot be returned! Apparently, this is how it should have been. I hope all the same that you will not report me to court as a murderer?

- Unhappy! - answered the Glass Man. "What good is it to me if I give your mortal shell to the gallows?" You should not fear the earthly judgment, but another and more severe one, because you sold your soul to the devil!

“If I sold my heart,” cried Peter, “it’s only you and your deceitful treasures that are to blame! You, an evil spirit, brought me to ruin, you forced me to seek help from another, and all the responsibility lies with you!

But as soon as he uttered this, the Glass Man began to grow and grow and became enormous in height and width. His eyes were the size of a soup bowl, and his mouth was like a red-hot bread oven, and flames flew out of it. Peter threw himself on his knees. His stone heart did not help him either, because he trembled like an aspen leaf. Like a kite with its claws, the forest spirit grabbed him by the collar, twirled dry leaves like a whirlwind, and threw him on the ground, so that all of Peter's ribs crackled.

- You are an earthly worm! - exclaimed the spirit in a voice that rolled like thunder. “I could crush you if I wanted to, because you encroached on the lord of the forest. But for the sake of this dead woman who gave me drink and nourishment, I give you eight days. If you do not return to a good life, I will come and crush your bones, and you will leave this world in sins!

It was already evening when several people, passing by, saw that the rich man Peter Munch was lying on the ground. They began to turn him in all directions, trying to find out if he was still breathing, but for a long time their attempts were in vain. Finally one went into the house, brought water and sprinkled it. Then Peter let out a deep sigh, opened his eyes and looked around him for a long time, and then asked about Lisbeth, but no one saw her. Thanking for the help, he trudged home and began to look everywhere, but Lisbeth was not in the cellar or in the attic, and what Peter considered a terrible dream turned out to be a bitter reality. Now that he was completely alone, strange thoughts began to occur to him. He was not afraid of anything because his heart was cold. But when he thought about the death of his wife, he had a thought about his own death and how many sins he would take with him, how many thousands of curses and bitter tears of the poor that could not soften his heart, how many sorrows of unfortunate people on whom he he set his dogs down, along with the silent despair of his mother and the blood of the beautiful and kind Lisbeth. And what account can he give to the old man, her father, when he comes and asks: "Where is my daughter, your wife?" How can he answer the question of the One to whom all forests and seas, all mountains and human life belong?

He suffered even at night in his sleep. Every minute he woke up from some gentle voice that called out to him: "Peter, get your heart warmer!" But when he woke up, he quickly closed his eyes again, because in her voice it was Lisbeth calling out to him with this warning.

The next day, in order to disperse his thoughts, he went to the tavern and found Tolstoy Ezekhiel there. Peter sat down with him, and they began to talk about this, about the other, about the weather, about the war, about taxes, finally about death and how some suddenly died. Peter asked Ezehiel what he thought about death and what would happen to the person after death. Ezekhiel replied that the body would be buried, and the soul would go either to heaven or hell.

- So the heart will be buried? - asked Peter with tense attention.

- Of course, he will be buried.

- Well, who does not have a heart? - continued Peter. At these words, Ezechiel looked at him with a terrible look.

- What do you mean by this? You seem to be laughing at me. Or do you think that I have no heart?

“Oh, there is a heart, but hard as a stone,” Peter objected.

Ezechiel looked at him in surprise, then looked around to see if anyone was listening to them, and then said in a low voice:

- How do you know? Or is your heart no longer beating?

- Yes, it no longer beats, at least in my chest! - answered Peter Munch. - But tell me, since now you know what I think, what will happen to our hearts?

- What is it that upsets you, comrade? Ezechiel asked laughing. - You live freely on earth, and that's enough. This is what is good in our cold hearts that with such thoughts we do not feel any fear.

- Even so, but you still think about it, and although now I do not feel any fear, I still know very well how much I was afraid of hell when I was still a small, innocent boy.

“Well, we’ll hardly be treated well there,” Ezekhiel said. - I once asked a school teacher about this, and he told me that after death, hearts are weighed to find out how burdened they are with sins. The lungs of the heart go up, and the heavy ones fall down. I think our stones have a lot of weight.

“Of course,” said Peter, “and it often makes me unpleasant that my heart remains so impassive and indifferent when I think about such things.

They were done with that. But the next night, Peter heard five or six times a familiar voice whispering in his ear: "Peter, get yourself a warm heart!" He did not feel any remorse that he had killed his wife, but telling the servants that she had left, he constantly thought: "Where could she disappear?" So he spent six days, constantly hearing voices at night and all the time thinking about the forest spirit and its terrible threat. On the seventh morning, he jumped out of bed and exclaimed: “Well, well! Let's see if I can get myself a warmer heart! After all, this insensitive stone in my chest makes life boring and empty. " He quickly put on his holiday costume, mounted a horse, and rode into the fir grove.

In the spruce grove, in the place where the trees stood more often, he got down, tied his horse and with quick steps went to the top of the hill. Standing there in front of a thick fir tree, he cast his spell.

Then the Glass Man came out, but no longer affable and affectionate, as before, but gloomy and sad. He was wearing a frock-coat of black glass, and a long mourning veil fluttered on his hat, and Peter knew very well for whom this mourning.

- What do you want from me, Peter Munch? He asked in a dull voice.

“I have one more wish, master of the treasures,” answered Peter, lowering his eyes.

- Can hearts of stone desire? - he said. “You have everything you need for your evil thoughts, and I can hardly grant your wish.

- But you promised me to fulfill three wishes, one I still have in stock.

“But I can reject it if it's stupid,” the forest spirit continued. “But let’s listen to what you want.

“Take this dead stone from me and give me my living heart,” Peter said.

- Did I make this deal with you? - asked the Glass Man. - Am I the Dutchman Michel, distributing wealth and cold hearts? Go to him to look for your heart!

“Alas, he will never give it to me,” replied Peter.

“I feel sorry for you, even though you were a worthless person,” said the forest spirit after some reflection. - But since your desire is not stupid, then, in any case, I will not refuse you my help. So listen. You will not take possession of your heart by force, but rather by cunning, and, perhaps, even without much difficulty. After all, Michel has always been just a stupid Michel, although he considers himself unusually smart. So, go straight to him and do as I teach you.

And he taught Peter everything and gave him a cross made of clear glass.

- In life, he cannot harm you and will let you go if you hold a cross in front of you and at the same time read a prayer. And then, having received what you want, come back to me at this place.

Peter Munch took the cross, remembered everything he had said and went to the dwelling of the Dutchman Michel. He shouted his name three times, and the giant immediately appeared before him.

- Did you kill your wife? He asked with a terrible laugh. - Serves her right so that she does not squander your property on the poor. But you will have to leave this country for a while, because if it is not found, it will cause a stir. You, of course, need money and have you come for it?

- You guessed right, - answered Peter, - but only this time a lot, since America is far away.

Michel went ahead and took Peter to his house. There he opened a drawer, where there was a lot of money, and took out a whole bundle of gold. While he was counting out the money on the table, Peter said:

“However, you are a clever bird, Mikhel, and you deftly puffed me up, as if I had a stone in my chest, and you had my heart!

- Isn't that so? Mikhel asked in amazement. - Can you feel your heart? Isn't it cold as ice? Do you feel fear or sadness, can you regret anything?

“You only made my heart stop, but it is still in my chest as before, just like Ezehiel, who told me that you cheated us. Besides, you are not the kind of person who could rip a heart out of your chest so quietly and without harm. After all, you should be able to conjure.

- But I assure you, - Michel exclaimed irritably, - that you, and Ezekhiel, and all the rich people who turned to me, have the same cold hearts as yours, and their real hearts are here in this room. !

- And how is your tongue turning to lie! - Peter laughed. - You tell it to someone else. Do you think that during my travels I have not seen dozens of such tricks? Here, in this room, all your hearts are molded from ordinary wax. That you are rich - I agree with this, but you cannot conjure!

Then the giant flew into a rage and flung open the door to the next room.

- Come in here and read all the labels, and there, look, the heart of Peter Munch! Do you see how it flinches? Is it possible to make such a thing out of wax?

- And yet it is made of wax, - answered Peter. “A real heart doesn't beat like that, but my heart is still in my chest. No, you cannot conjure!

- But I will prove it to you! - exclaimed the annoyed Mikhel. - You yourself will feel that this is your heart!

He flung open Peter's jacket and, taking a stone out of his chest, showed it. Then he took the real heart, blew on it, and carefully put it back into place. Peter immediately felt it beating, and again was glad of it.

- So now what? Mikhel asked with a smile.

“Indeed, you’re right,” replied Peter, carefully removing a cross from his pocket. “I would never have believed you could do this sort of thing.

- That's it! Now you see that I can conjure! But come, now I will put a stone in you again.

- Quiet, Mr. Michel! - Peter exclaimed, stepping back and holding a cross in front of him. - Only mice are caught for bacon, and this time you were left out in the cold!

Then Michel began to get smaller and smaller, then fell and began to wriggle in all directions, like a worm. He groaned and groaned, and all the hearts in the room beat and beat like a clock in a watchmaker's workshop. Peter got scared and, feeling horror, started to run from the room and from the house. Out of fear, he climbed the mountain, although it was extremely steep. He could hear how Mikhel, jumping up from the floor, raised a stomp and noise and sent terrible curses after him. But Peter was already upstairs and ran to the spruce grove. A terrible storm arose, lightning, splitting trees, fell right and left, but he safely reached the possessions of the Glass Man.

His heart was beating with joy, and precisely because it began to beat. But then he looked back in horror at his old life, which was like this storm that fell behind him the beautiful trees to the right and to the left. He remembered his Lisbeth, a beautiful and kind woman whom he had killed out of stinginess, and seemed to himself a monster of the human race. Weeping bitterly, he approached the hill of the Glass Man. The owner of the treasure was sitting under a fir tree and smoking from his little pipe, but he looked more cheerful than before.

- Why are you crying, Peter the coal miner? - he asked. - Or did you not get your heart back? Or is your cold heart still in your chest?

- Ah, sir! - Peter sighed. - If I still had a cold stone heart, I could not cry and my eyes would be as dry as the earth in July. And now my old heart is torn to pieces at the thought of what I have done! .. I drove my debtors to poverty, I set dogs on the poor and the sick, I ... you yourself saw how my whip beat her on her beautiful forehead!

“You were a great sinner, Peter,” said the Glass Man. “Money and idleness have ruined you. And when your heart turned stone, it no longer knew joy, sorrow, repentance, or compassion. But repentance will cleanse you, and if only I knew that you truly regret your old life, there is something else I could do for you.

“I don’t need anything,” replied Peter, drooping his head sadly. - Everything is over. Life will not make me happy anymore. What am I lonely to do in the world? Mother will never forgive me for what I did to her, and maybe I have already brought her to the grave. And Lisbeth, my wife! .. Better kill me, Mr. Glass Man! At least then my miserable life will end at once!

- Well, - answered the Little Man, - if you don't want anything else, then get at least this. The ax is at my fingertips.

He quite calmly took his pipe out of his mouth, knocked it out and hid it. Then he slowly got up and walked behind the fir tree. And Peter sat down crying on the grass. Life was nothing more to him, and he patiently waited for the fatal blow. After a while, he heard quiet steps behind him and thought: "Here he comes."

- Look around again, Peter Munch! - exclaimed the Little Man.

Peter wiped the tears from his eyes, looked around and suddenly saw his mother and wife Lisbeth, who were looking at him affectionately. Then he happily jumped up from the ground.

“So you’re not dead, Lisbeth? Are you here too, mother, and have you forgiven me?

- Yes, they will forgive you, - said the Glass Man, - because you sincerely repent, and everything will be forgotten. Now go home to your father's hut and be a coal miner as before. If you are straightforward and honest, you will respect your craft, and your neighbors will love and respect you, as if you had ten barrels of gold.

So the Glass Man said to Peter, and then bade them farewell.

All three, calling on him praise and blessing, went home.

The magnificent house of the rich man Peter was gone. Lightning struck him and burned him along with all his wealth. But it was not far from my father's house. Their path now lay there, and the great loss did not grieve them at all.

But how astonished they were when they approached the hut! It has turned into a wonderful peasant house. Everything about him was simple, but good and clean.

- It was done by the kind Glass Man! - Peter exclaimed.

- How good! Said Lisbeth. - And here I am much more pleasant than in a big house with many servants!

From that time on, Peter Munch became a diligent and honest man. He was pleased with what he had, tirelessly pursued his craft and achieved that by his own strength he became prosperous, respected and loved throughout the Black Forest. He never quarreled with Lisbeth again, honored his mother and served to the poor who knocked on his door.

When a beautiful boy was born to Lisbeth a year later, Peter went into the fir grove and uttered his incantation. But the Glass Man did not appear.

- Master of the treasures! - Peter shouted loudly. - Hear me out! After all, I do not want anything, except to ask you to be godfathers to my son!

But the spirit did not answer. Only a gust of wind quickly swept between the fir trees and threw several cones onto the grass.

- So I'll take this as a keepsake if you don't want to let me see you! - Peter shouted, put the cones in his pocket and went home.

But when he took off his festive jacket at home, and his mother, wanting to put clothes in the chest, began to turn out his pockets, four decent parcels fell out of them. When they were deployed, they contained real new Baden thalers, and not a single fake one! It was a christening gift to little Peter from the Glass Man from the fir grove.

They healed quietly and peacefully, and even later, when Peter Munch's hair was already completely gray, he often said:

- Better to be satisfied with little than to have gold and a cold heart!

About five days had passed, and Felix, the Countess's servant, and the student were still captured by the robbers. Although the leader and his subordinates treated them well, they longed for release, because the more time passed, the more their fears about discovering deception increased.

On the fifth day in the evening, the servant announced to his comrades in misfortune that he decided to get out of here that night, even if it cost him his life. He began to persuade them to make the same decision and explained to them how this escape could be carried out.

- With the one who stands beside us, I undertake to finish. This must be done, but "the need of the law does not know," and he will have to die.

- Die! Felix exclaimed, startled. - Do you want to kill him?

- Yes, I firmly decided on this if it comes to saving two human lives. You know, I heard bandits with anxious faces whispering that they were looking for them in the forest, and the old women in anger betrayed the bad intentions of the gang. They scolded us and made it clear that if the robbers were attacked, they would kill us without any mercy.

- Heavenly God! The young man exclaimed in horror, covering his face with his hands.

“While they haven’t stabbed us in the throat yet,” the servant continued, “let’s warn them. When it gets dark, I will sneak to the nearest guard, they will call me, I will tell the guard in a whisper that the Countess is suddenly very ill, and when he looks back, I will knock him to the ground. Then I will come for you, young man, and the second will not leave us either. Well, we can handle the third in jest!

At these words, the servant looked so terrible that Felix was frightened. He was about to persuade him to give up these bloody thoughts, when suddenly the door of the hut quietly opened and a figure quickly slipped into it. This was the leader of the robbers. He again carefully locked the door and signaled to the prisoners to remain calm. Then, sitting down next to Felix, he said:

- Countess! You are in a very bad position. Your spouse did not keep his word. He not only did not send the ransom, but even declared to the authorities. Detachments of armed men roam the entire forest to capture me and my comrades. I threatened your spouse to kill you if he decides to take us. But either your life is not particularly dear to him, or he does not believe our promises. Your life is in our hands and depends on our laws. What can you say to that?

The embarrassed prisoners looked at each other, not knowing what to answer. Felix knew very well that if he confessed to his dressing, then this would expose himself to even greater danger.

“I cannot,” the chief continued, “to endanger the woman whom I respect so deeply. Therefore, I want to invite you to flee. This is the only way out that remains for you. And I want to run with you.

Everyone looked at him with extreme surprise, and he continued:

- Most of my comrades want to go to Italy and join one very large gang there, as for me, I do not like serving under the command of another at all, and therefore I can have nothing more in common with them. If you give me your word, Countess, to intercede for me and use your influential connections to protect me, then I can free you before it is too late.

Felix was embarrassedly silent. His truthful heart did not allow him to deliberately expose a person who wanted to save his life to a danger from which he could not later protect him. Since he was still silent, the leader continued:

“Now soldiers are being recruited everywhere. I will be content with the most insignificant position. I know that you can do a lot, but I am asking only for your promise to do something for me in this matter.

- Well, - answered Felix, lowering his eyes, - I promise you to do everything that is possible only for me and that is in my power to be useful to you. Of course, it is very comforting for me that you yourself are willingly leaving this life of a robber.

The moved leader of the robbers kissed the hand of the generous lady and, whispering to her to be ready two hours after nightfall, left the hut with the same caution as he had come. When he left, the captives breathed more freely.

- Really, God himself put it in his heart! - exclaimed the servant. - This is how amazingly we will be saved! Have I ever dreamed that something like this could happen in the world and that such a strange incident would happen to us?

- Of course, this is amazing! - said Felix. “But what right did I have to deceive this man? How can I benefit him by my protection? Tell yourself, does this mean dragging him to the gallows if I don’t tell him who I am?

- How can you be so suspicious, dear young man, - the student objected, - if you played your part so skillfully! No, don't worry about that, because this is nothing more than legal self-defense. After all, he committed a crime by meanly attacking such a respectable woman on the road with the aim of taking her away, and if you were not there, who knows what would have happened to the life of the countess! No, you did exactly the right thing. In addition, I think that in the eyes of the court he will have mitigating circumstances in the fact that he, the head of this rabble, fled from him of his own free will.

This last consideration consoled the young artisan somewhat. Joyful, albeit full of fears for the success of the enterprise, they began to wait for the appointed hour. It was already completely dark when the chief of the gang quickly entered the hut and, putting down the bundle with the dress, said:

“To facilitate our escape, Countess, you must dress in this man's suit. Get ready, we'll set out in an hour.

With these words he left the captives, and the Countess's servant could hardly restrain himself from laughing loudly.

- This is the second dressing! He exclaimed. - I can swear that it is even better for you than the first!

They untied the knot. He was wearing a magnificent hunting suit, with all the accessories that fit Felix. When Felix changed his clothes, the servant wanted to throw the countess's dress into the corner, but Felix did not let him do it. He folded it into a small bundle, declaring that he would ask the Countess to give him this dress and would keep it all his life in memory of these wonderful days.

Finally the chief of the gang came, fully armed, and brought the countess's servant the gun and powder flask that had been taken from him. He gave the rifle to the student, and gave Felix a hunting knife, asking him to hang it up just in case. Fortunately for the three prisoners, it was very dark, otherwise Felix's sparkling gazes when he grabbed this weapon could have revealed his true position to the robber. As they cautiously walked out of the hut, the servant noticed that this time there was no usual guard around her. Thus, they could sneak past the huts unnoticed, but the robber did not choose this usual path along the path that led from the ravine to the forest, but went to the cliff, which seemed completely steep and inaccessible to them.

When they got there, the robber drew their attention to a rope ladder attached to the cliff. He threw his gun onto his back and was the first to climb up. Then he shouted to the Countess to follow him and held out his hand to help her. The servant was the last to climb. Beyond the cliff was a path along which they walked quickly forward.

“This path,” said the robber, “leads to the Aschaffenburg road. We will go there, since I have information that your spouse, the count, is currently there.

They walked on in silence, the robber always in front, and the three others behind, next to each other. Three hours later they stopped, and the robber invited Felix to sit down and rest. Then, taking out bread and a jar of old wine, he invited the tired travelers to refresh themselves.

- I think that not even an hour will pass before we stumble upon the military guards posted in the forest. In that case, I will ask you to speak with the chief of the detachment and to make some trouble about me.

Felix agreed to this too, although he did not expect any success from his petition. After resting for another half hour, they set off on. When about an hour passed and came to the high road, the day began to study and it was already dawn in the forest. Suddenly they were stopped by a cry: “Stop! Don `t move!" Five soldiers approached them and told them that they were obliged to follow them and give an explanation of their journey to the major in command of the detachment. After walking fifty paces, they saw weapons glittering in the bushes. Apparently, the forest was occupied by a large detachment. The Major sat under an oak tree, surrounded by several officers and others. When the captives were brought to him and he was about to begin questioning where they were coming from and where, one of those around him jumped up and exclaimed:

- My God, what do I see! Why, this is our Gottfried!

- That's right, mister police chief! The countess's servant answered cheerfully. - This is me, miraculously escaped from the hands of villains.

The officers were surprised to see him here. And the servant asked the major and the police chief to step aside with him and in a few words told them how they had escaped and who was the fourth who followed them.

The major, delighted by this news, immediately made an order to send the important prisoner further, and he took the young goldsmith to his comrades and introduced the young man to them as a hero who, with his courage and presence of mind, saved the Countess. Everyone happily shook his hands, praised him and could not hear enough when he and others talked about their adventures.

Meanwhile, it was full daylight. The major decided to personally accompany the liberated to the city. He went with them and the Countess's steward to the nearest village, where his carriage was stationed. There Felix had to sit with him in the carriage, and the servant, student, manager and others rode in front and behind, and so they marched in triumph towards the city. Just as the rumor about the attack in the tavern and the self-sacrifice of the artisan spread throughout the country with the speed of lightning, just like now the rumor about their release quickly passed from mouth to mouth. Therefore, it was not surprising that in the city where they went, crowds of people stood in the streets, wanting to look at the young hero. When the crew began to approach slowly, everyone began to crowd.

- Here it is! - shouted the people. - Look, here he is in the carriage, next to the officer! Long live the brave goldsmith! - And "hurray!" thousands of voices announced the air.

Felix was embarrassed and moved by the stormy joy of the crowd. But in front of the city hall he was faced with an even more touching picture. On the stairs he was met by a middle-aged man in rich clothes, and with tears in his eyes embraced him.

- How can I reward you, my son? He exclaimed. “I almost lost infinitely much, but you gave me back what I lost. You saved my wife and my children a mother! Her gentle nature would not have endured the horrors of such captivity!

The speaker was the consort of the Countess. The more Felix refused to appoint himself a reward for his feat, the more the Count insisted on this. Then the young man came up with the idea of ​​the miserable fate of the head of the gang. He told how he saved him and that this salvation was arranged, in fact, for the sake of the countess. The count, moved not so much by the act of the robber as by the new proof of the noble disinterestedness that Felix had discovered by his choice, promised to do everything in his power to save the robber.

On the same day, the count, accompanied by the countess's servant, took the young goldsmith to his castle, where the countess, still preoccupied with the fate of the young man who sacrificed himself for her, was impatiently awaiting news of him. Who can describe her joy when the count brought her savior into the room? She asked him endlessly and thanked him. Then, calling the children, she showed them the generous youth to whom their mother was so infinitely indebted. The little ones caught his hands, and the tender expressions of their gratitude and their assurances that after their father and mother they loved him the most, were for Felix the best reward for all the sorrows, for all the sleepless nights in the hut of the robbers.

When the first minutes of the joyful meeting had passed, the countess made a sign to the servant, and he brought a dress and a well-known knapsack, which Felix had entrusted to the countess in the forest tavern.

“Here,” said the countess with a supportive smile, “everything that you conveyed to me at that terrible moment. Now you have everything again. Only I want to propose to you that you give me this clothes, which I would like to keep as a keepsake of you, and in exchange for it they took the amount of money that the robbers had appointed for ransom.

Felix was amazed at the magnitude of this gift. His innate nobility did not allow him to accept the reward for what he did voluntarily.

- Dear Countess, - he answered, touched by her words, - I am not worth it. Let the dress be yours, according to your desire. As for the money you are talking about, I cannot accept it. But since I know that you want to reward me with something, then your favor alone is enough for me instead of any reward. Just let me, if I am in need, turn to you for help.

They tried to persuade the young man for a long time, but nothing could change his decision, so finally the count and the countess gave in. When the servant was about to take back the dress and knapsack, Felix remembered the precious headdress, which he had completely forgotten in those joyful moments.

- Yes! He exclaimed. “Let me just, Countess, take something from my knapsack; the rest will be all yours!

- Dispose as you please, - answered the countess, - although I would gladly keep everything, but take what you do not want to leave as an inheritance. However, I dare to ask, what is it so dear to your heart that you cannot leave me?

At this time, Felix opened his knapsack and took out a box of red morocco.

- Everything that belongs to me, you can take! - he answered with a smile. “But this belongs to my sweet godmother. This I myself worked and now I must take it to her. This is a dress, dear countess, - he continued, opening the box and handing it over, - this is a dress over which I tried my hand.

The Countess took the box. But, casting a glance at her, she stepped back in amazement.

- How, these stones? - she exclaimed. “And they are for your godmother, you say?

“Yes,” answered Felix. - The godmother sent me stones, and I straightened them and now I'm going to take them to her myself.

The Countess looked at him with emotion. Tears gushed from her eyes.

- So you are Felix Werner from Nuremberg? - she exclaimed.

- Quite right. But how did you know my name so soon? - asked the young man, looking at her in surprise.

- Here is an amazing predestination of fate! - the touched countess turned to her astonished husband. - After all, this is Felix, our godson, the son of our maid of honor Sabina! Felix! After all, I am the one you are going to! After all, you saved your godmother, completely unaware of it!

- How? Are you Countess Sandau who has done so much for me and for my mother? How can I thank the benevolent fate that so amazingly brought me to you! So I had the opportunity to express my gratitude to you, even if only to such an insignificant degree!

“You have done more for me,” objected the countess, “than I have done for you. And while I am alive, I will try to show you how infinitely we all owe you. Let my husband be your father, the children - brothers and sisters, and I myself will be your mother. This dress, which brought you to me in the moment of the greatest trouble, will be my best decoration, because it will constantly remind me of your nobility.

So said the Countess and kept her word. She gave generous support to the happy Felix on his journey. When he returned back, already a skilled master of his craft, she bought him a house in Nuremberg and furnished it beautifully. His finest room was adorned with splendid paintings of scenes in a forest tavern and Felix's life among robbers.

Felix settled there as a skilled goldsmith, and the fame of his art intertwined with the rumor of his amazing heroism, attracting buyers from all over the country. Many foreigners, passing through beautiful Nuremberg, asked to be taken to the workshop of the "famous master Felix" in order to look and marvel at him, as well as to buy some beautiful precious thing from him. But the most pleasant visitors for him were the countess's servant, the mechanic, the student, and the cab. The latter, driving from Würzburg to Fürth, always visited Felix. The Countess's servant brought him gifts almost every year, and the mechanic, having traveled around all countries, finally settled with Felix. Once Felix was visited by a student. Now he became an important person in the state, but he was not ashamed to dine with the master and the mechanic. They recalled various scenes from the incident in the tavern, and a former student said that he had seen the leader of a bandit gang in Italy. He has completely changed for the better and honestly serves in the troops of the Neapolitan king.

Felix was very pleased with this news. Although without this man he might not have found himself in such a dangerous position, but without him he could not have gotten free from the hands of the robbers. That is why the brave goldsmith had only joyful and quiet memories when he thought about what happened in the Spessart tavern.

Audio tale Frozen by Wilhelm Hauff. The tale can be listened to online or downloaded. The audiobook "Cold Heart" is presented in mp3 format.

Audio story Frozen, content:

Audio tale Frozen - about how the coal miner Peter Munch lived and was in the Black Forest, who was very eager to get rich.

Once he remembered the legend about a certain Glass Man - Glassware and even remembered almost all the spell with which this forest spirit was summoned, except for the last two lines.

Soon Peter heard about Michel the Dutchman, who is able to bestow a gift on a person, but for a very high price. As a result, the coal miner had a chance to meet both the giant and the Steklyashnichek.

Peter had a chance to fulfill three cherished desires, the first of which was good dancing, the second - to have the same amount of money as the most noble rich man in their city and, finally, to have his own glass factory.

Steklyashnichek considered these dreams stupid, so he advised leaving the third wish for later.

In the end, Peter went bankrupt. It was then that Micah the Dutchman appeared - a giant who gave Munch a lot of money, but demanded his heart in return, in its place he put a stone, completely cold heart.

And the coal miner became soulless and cruel. And this money did not bring him joy. And then, because of his cruelty, he lost his mother and wife.

Then Peter realized that more than anything he wants to get his heart back!

The glass man took pity on him, returned his wife and mother back to him and advised him to return to his father's hut and work honestly.

Here is such a happy and kind ending for our online audio fairy tale.

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