Suddenly the smith discerned an open window in the attic. He climbed up and entered the house by that means, went down the stair, and, opening the door, appeared before his wife; but as she kept drawing back before him as he advanced, crying out and calling the neighbours at the top of her voice, Smetse stood still so as not to frighten her further, sat down on a stool, and said:
“Dost not see, mother, that I am indeed Smetse, and wish thee no harm?”
But his wife would listen to nothing and crept back into a corner. Thence with her teeth a-chatter, and her eyes open wide, she made a sign to him to leave her, for she could no longer find her tongue, by reason of her great fear.
“Wife,” said the smith in friendly tones, “is it thus that thou givest greeting and welcome to thy poor husband, after the long time he has been away? Alas, hast forgot our old comradeship and union?”
Hearing this soft and joyous voice she answered in a low tone and with great timidity:
“No, dead master.”
“Well then,” said he, “why art thou so afraid? Dost not know thy man’s fat face, his round paunch, and the voice which in former days sang so readily hereabout?”
“Yes,” she said, “I know thee well enough.”
And why,” said he, “if thou knowest me, wilt not come to me and touch me?”
“Ah,” said she, “I dare not, master, for ’tis said that whatever member touches a dead man is itself dead.”