"This!" answered the other, as he took from a drawer a heart of stone.
"What?" cried Peter, unable to repress a shudder which affected his entire frame. "A heart of marble? But, if it is as you say, Master Dutch Michael, such a thing must feel very cold inside one's bosom."
"Not exactly cold, but quite pleasantly cool. Why should one's heart be warm? It doesn't keep you warm in winter--a good glass of spirits is far better for that purpose than a warm heart; while in summer, when it is so hot and close, you cannot think how cooling is the effect of such a heart as this. Besides which, as I have already told you, such a heart as this never throbs with anguish or terror, with foolish compassion or with any other emotion."
"And is that all that you have to give me?" asked Peter disappointedly. "I hoped for money, and you offer me a stone!"
"Well, perhaps a hundred thousand guilders may satisfy you for a start. If you went the right way to work, you would soon be a millionaire."
"A hundred thousand?" cried the poor charcoal-burner in an ecstasy. "There, don't beat so violently in my breast, we shall soon have done with one another. Good, Michael! give me the stone and the money, and you may relieve this habitation of its restless inmate."
"Ah, I was sure that you were a sensible fellow!" answered the Dutchman, smiling amiably. "Come, we will have just one more glass, and then I will count out the money for you!"
Whereupon they returned to the other room, and sat down to their wine, drinking glass after glass, until Peter fell into a deep sleep.
* * * * *
Charcoal-Peter was awakened by the joyous fanfare of a posthorn, and behold he was sitting in a coach, which was bowling along a handsome broad highway, and when he leaned out of the window he could see the Black-Forest lying far behind him in the distance. At first he could not believe that it was he himself who could be thus sitting in this coach. His clothes were not the same that he had been wearing the day before; yet he remembered everything that had happened so clearly, that at last he doubted no longer, but cried out: "I am Charcoal-Peter, that's certain--Charcoal-Peter Munk and no other!"