So Peter Munk went in, feeling his pockets, and saw directly that Ezekiel must be well off that night, for they were brimming over with gold and silver. He sat down to the table, and played with one and another, and won and lost, and won again, till it grew late, and the steadier heads among them said it was enough, and they must go home to wife and child. So one and another went, till gambling Peter and Ezekiel were left alone. Peter begged the latter to stop on a while, but he was loth, and resisted for a long time. At last he cried: “Well, I will count what I have left, and then we will play one last bout, five gulden a throw, for it is childish to keep on for less.”
He counted his money, and found he had just a hundred guldens; and now Peter did not need to count his, for he knew how much he had, too.
But if Ezekiel had won before, he lost now, one throw after another, swearing fearfully the while. At last he put his only remaining five gulden on the table, and said: “Now, even if I lose this time, I will yet not leave off, for thou wilt lend me some of thy winnings, Peter; one good fellow helps another.”
“To be sure I will, and were it a hundred guldens!” cried the other, proud of his winnings; and fat Ezekiel threw the dice—fifteen. “Now let us see!” he cried.
Peter rattled the box, and threw—eighteen; and as he did so, a hoarse, well-known voice behind him said: “So, that was the last!”
He turned round, and saw the giant form of Dutch Michael. He let the money he had won fall in terror. But fat Ezekiel saw no one, and only begged Peter to lend him ten guldens, that he might go on playing. Half dreaming, Peter thrust his hand into one pocket—it was empty. He tried the other—it was the same. He turned his coat inside out, but not a penny-piece was to be found; and now he thought of his own wish—that he might always have as much money as fat Ezekiel. It had all disappeared like smoke.
The host and Ezekiel gazed at him in surprise as he went on hunting, and still found none of his money. They would not believe he had no more; but when they themselves felt in his pockets, and were obliged to confess it was the truth they became very wroth, and swore gambling Peter was a wicked conjurer and had “wished” all Ezekiel’s money, and his own, away into his coffers at home. He defended himself as best he could, but appearances were against him. Ezekiel swore he would spread the shameful tale through all the Black Forest, and the host declared he would go to the town at dawn and denounce Peter as a sorcerer, adding that he believed he would come to be burnt as one yet. Then they set upon him in a rage, tore his jerkin from his back, and thrust him out of doors.
No star lit up the dark sky as Peter slunk dejectedly homewards, yet he could make out a dusky form that strode along beside him, and at last spoke as follows:
“Thou art done for now, Peter Munk; all thy grandeur is at an end. And I could have told thee as much before, but thou wouldst have naught to do with me, and wert set upon running to that foolish little glass-dwarf. Now thou seest what happens to those who scorn my counsels. But try me again, for I have pity upon thy miserable plight. No one ever repented it yet who turned to me, and if thou dost not fear the way, I am to be found all day to-morrow in the ‘Pine-thicket,’ and will come forth to speak with thee, if thou dost but call.”
Peter was well aware who it was that spoke thus to him, but a sense of dread crept over him. He made no answer, but hurried on upon his homeward way.