His chief annoyance was the "old woman"--who was none other than Dame Munk, his own mother. She had lived in misery and want from the day when they had sold up her house and home; and now her son, though he had come back rich, no longer took any notice of her. Yet she, old, feeble and broken down, would come from time to time and stand, leaning on her stick, in front of his house. She did not now dare to enter, for he had once driven her out. But her greatest grief was that she was compelled to accept the charity of others in order to live, though her own son could have made her old age happy and free from care. But the cold heart was never touched at the sight of those pale well-known features, by their pleading expression, by the withered outstretched hand, by the frail and tottering form. When she knocked at the door on Saturdays he would draw sixpence from his pocket, grumbling the while, wrap it up in a piece of paper, and send a servant out to her with it. He caught the sound of her quavering voice as she spoke her thanks and wished him well on this earth; he heard her pant as she shuffled away from his door; then he thought no more of her except to regret that another sixpence had been so profitlessly expended.
At length Peter determined to marry. He knew well that any father in the Black Forest would be glad to let him wed his daughter; but he took pains over his choice, for he wanted everybody to praise his good luck and sense even in this matter. Wherefore he rode about on a round of inspection, visiting several houses in all parts of the forest; but none of the pretty Black Forest maidens seemed to be beautiful enough for him. At last, after having vainly attended all the dance-meetings in his search for a beautiful damsel, he heard one day that the loveliest and most virtuous of all the girls in the forest was the daughter of a poor woodcutter.
She lived quietly and alone, keeping house for her father, was clever and diligent, and never attended a dance, not even at Whitsuntide nor on Dedication Day. When Peter learnt of this jewel of the Black Forest, he resolved to marry her, and rode to the cottage which had been pointed out to him. The father of the lovely girl, whose name was Elspeth, received his distinguished visitor with surprise, but was even more astonished when he discovered that this was the wealthy Peter, and that he was anxious to become his son-in-law. He was not long making up his mind, for he considered that now there would be an end to all his troubles and poverty; therefore, without consulting Elspeth, he gave his consent; and the good child was so obedient that she became Dame Peter Munk without a murmur of dissent.
But it did not turn out so well for the poor girl as she had expected. She thought she knew how to keep house, but in nothing could she please Master Peter. She was sorry for poor people, and as her husband was a rich man, she considered it no crime to give a penny to a beggar-woman, or to offer an old man a "schnaps." But one day Master Peter, who had been watching her, spoke to her roughly and angrily: "Why are you wasting my fortune on rascals and vagabonds? Did you bring anything with you into the house that you might give away? In your father's house there was not enough broth to go round, and yet you are now throwing money about as if you were a princess! Let me catch you once more, and you shall feel the weight of my hand."
The lovely Elspeth wept in her room over her husband's ill-nature, and she often wished she were back again in her father's mean cottage instead of having to live in the house of the rich, avaricious and hard-hearted Peter. Even had she known that he had a heart of marble, and could never love anybody, not even herself, she would not have been so greatly surprised. Whenever she sat in the porch and a beggar passed by, taking off his hat and asking for alms, she shut her eyes in order not to see his wretchedness; she clenched her fist as if to keep her hand from straying against her will into her pocket in order to bestow a farthing or so. And so it came about that people throughout the forest began to speak despitefully of the beautiful Elspeth, saying that she was even more miserly than Peter Munk.
But one day Elspeth was sitting in front of the house, spinning and humming a little song, for she was in good spirits, the day was fine, and her husband, Peter, had ridden away across the country. And as she sat there, there came along the road a little old man, who was carrying a great heavy sack, and she could hear him panting from a long way off. Dame Elspeth regarded him sympathetically, thinking the while that such a little old man should not have to carry so heavy a burden.
Meanwhile the little man, panting and staggering, drew near, and as he passed Elspeth, he nearly broke down under the weight of the sack. "Ah, have mercy, good lady, and give me a drink of water!" said the little man; "I can go no further, and feel ready to perish."
"But at your age you ought not to carry such a heavy load," said Elspeth.
Oh, have mercy, good lady and give a drink of water.