Her son soon came to an agreement with the owners of the glass-factory. He kept on the old staff of workmen, and busied himself night and day in the manufacture of glass. At first, he was very interested in the work. It was his pleasure to go down to the glass-works, walking about with a pompous air and with his hands in both pockets, up and down, in and out, peeping in here, and peering in there, talking to this man, and then to that one, often causing his work-people to laugh heartily at his comments; while his chief delight was to watch the glass being blown, frequently taking a hand himself in the work, forming from the molten mass the most extraordinary patterns.
But too soon he began to weary of the business; at first, he was at the factory for only one hour per day, then only every other day, and, finally, only once a week, so that his workmen did just as they pleased. And it was all the result of his visits to the tavern. On the Sunday after his return from the Pine-grove, he went into the tavern, and who should be footing it on the dancing floor but the Dance-King; while Fat Ezekiel was already sitting behind a stoup of ale, throwing dice for crown-thalers. At sight of the latter Peter thrust his hands in his pockets to find out if the Glassmanikin had kept his word--and behold! his pockets were stuffed full of gold and silver pieces. Meanwhile, his legs were twitching and jerking as if they were itching to be dancing; so when the first dance was over, he took up a position with his partner exactly opposite the Dance-King. Whenever the latter sprang three feet into the air, Peter leapt four; and if his rival performed any particularly wonderful or graceful steps, Peter twirled and twisted his feet so that all beholders were well nigh beside themselves with delight and admiration. And when those at the dance heard that Peter had bought a glass-factory, and when they saw how he flung a small coin to the musicians every time he danced past them, there was no limit to their astonishment. Some were of opinion that he had discovered a treasure in the forest; others held that he must have inherited a fortune; while all paid him honour, and thought him to be a man of position, simply because he had money. He might gamble away twenty guilders in an evening, yet his pockets rattled and jingled just the same, as though they still contained hundreds of thalers. When Peter saw how much he was respected, he did not know how to contain himself, so great was his joy and pride. He threw money about by handsful, and was particularly liberal to the poor, because he himself knew what it was to feel the pinch of poverty. The supernatural ability of the new dancer soon cast all the feats of the Dance-King into the shade, and Peter was now hailed as "Dance-Emperor." The most venturesome gamblers did not stake so recklessly as he did, and therefore did not lose so heavily. But the more he lost, the more he gained--which was quite in accordance with the promise he had obtained from the Glassmanikin. He had wished always to have as much money in his pockets as there was in Fat Ezekiel's, and it was to him he lost most of his money. No matter whether he lost twenty or thirty guilders on a single throw, there they were again in his pocket as soon as Ezekiel had gathered them from the table.
Peter gambling at the Inn.
But gradually he brought his debauchery and gambling to a degree worse than that of the vilest character in the Black Forest; and he was more often dubbed Gambling-Peter than Dance-Emperor, for he was at the gambling table nearly the whole week through. Meanwhile his glass-business was going rapidly to rack and ruin, and it was all due to Peter's folly. He manufactured glass as fast as it could be made; but with the glass-factory he had not bought the secret how to manage it. In the end he had so much glass on hand that he did not know what to do with it; and he was forced to sell it at half its value to pedlars in order to find the money wherewith to pay his workpeople. One evening while returning home from the tavern, despite all the wine he had drunk to keep up his spirits, he could not help contemplating with terror and grief the ruin of his fortunes. All at once he noticed that somebody was walking at his side; he looked round, and behold--it was the Glassmanikin. He flew at once into a furious passion, bewailing his bad luck and cursing the little man as the cause of all his misfortune. "What am I to do now with my horses and carts?" he said. "Of what use to me is my factory and all my glass? Even when I was a miserable charcoal-burner, I was happier, and did not have all these worries. Now, I am expecting any day to see the bailiffs in my factory to sell me up in order to pay my debts."
"So-ho?" rejoined the Glassmanikin. "So-ho? Then I am to be blamed for your misfortunes? Is this your gratitude for all my kindness to you? Did I not warn you not to make such foolish wishes. You wished to become a glass-blower, without having the slightest idea how to sell your glass. Did I not tell you not to wish too hastily? Common-sense, Peter, Wisdom, that was what you lacked."
"Bother your Common-sense and Wisdom!" cried the other. "I am as clever a fellow as anyone else--and what is more I will prove it to you, Glassmanikin." Saying which he seized the little man by the collar, and shouted: "Ha! I have you now. Guardian of the pine-tree wold! And now I will make my third wish, which you will have to grant me. I demand, without delay, on this very spot, two hundred thousand thalers, and a house, and--oh-oh-ah!" he shrieked, wringing his hands, for the Glassmanikin had turned into a mass of white-hot glass, burning Peter's hand as if he had thrust it into fire; and in the same moment the manikin vanished.
For several days afterwards Peter's scorched and swollen hand reminded him of his ingratitude, and folly. But he soon turned a deaf ear to the voice of conscience, consoling himself with the reflection: "What if they do sell up my glass-factory and everything else. Fat Ezekiel is still left to me! So long as he has money on Sundays, I shall not go without."
Very good Peter! But supposing he should happen to have none at all, for once?
And this is what actually came to pass. One Sunday, Peter drove to the tavern, people observing him through their windows as he passed.