VI
THE COMRADE
Once upon a time there was a peasant boy, who dreamed that he would get a princess, from far, far away, and that she was as white as milk, and as red as blood, and so rich that her riches had no end. When he woke, it seemed to him as though she were still standing before him, and she was so beautiful and winning that he could not go on living without her. So he sold all that he had, and went forth to look for her. He wandered far, and at last, in the winter-time, came into a land where the roads all ran in straight lines, and made no turns. After he had wandered straight ahead for full three months, he came to a city. And there a great block of ice lay before the church door, and in the middle of it was a corpse, and the whole congregation spat at it as the people passed by. This surprised the youth, and when the pastor came out of the church, he asked him what it meant. “He was a great evil-doer,” replied the pastor, “who has been executed because of his misdeeds, and has been exposed here in shame and derision.” “But what did he do?” asked the youth.
“During his mortal life he was a wine-dealer,” answered the pastor, “and he watered the wine he sold.”
This did not strike the youth as being such a terrible crime. “Even if he had to pay for it with his life,” said he, “one might now grant him a Christian burial, and let him rest in peace.” But the pastor said that this could not be done at all; for people would be needed to break him out of the ice; and money would be needed to buy a grave for him from the church; and the gravedigger would want to be paid for his trouble; and the sexton for tolling the bells; and the cantor for singing; and the pastor himself for the funeral sermon.
“Do you think there is any one who would pay all that money for such an arrant sinner’s sake?” inquired the pastor.
“Yes,” said the youth. If he could manage to have him buried, he would be willing to pay for the wake out of his own slender purse.
At first the pastor would hear nothing of it; but when the youth returned with two men, and asked him in their presence whether he refused the dead man Christian burial, he ventured no further objections.
So they released the wine-dealer from his block of ice, and laid him in consecrated ground. The bells tolled, and there was singing, and the pastor threw earth on the coffin, and they had a wake at which tears and laughter alternated. But when the youth had paid for the wake, he had but a few shillings left in his pocket. Then he once more set out on his way; but had not gone far before a man came up behind him, and asked him whether he did not find it tiresome to wander along all alone.
“No,” said the youth, he always had something to think about. The man asked whether he did not need a servant.