Once—it was a St. John's day—he saw a Graumännchen[[1]] on the other side of the stream, who evidently wished to cross, but did not venture to wade through, since the waters had risen in the late thunderstorm, and there was at that time no bridge.
[[1]] Little grey man.
Graumännchen seemed in great embarrassment; this awakened the pity of the fisherman, and he called across that he would come and carry him over the water.
He waded over and did as he had said.
Graumännchen was much pleased at this kindness, thanked the fisherman in the warmest terms, and said, "Thou art a good, obliging man, and since thou hast fulfiled my wish, I could wish that thou also hadst a wish or two that I might grant."
"Ah!" said the fisherman, "every one has wishes. I have just one, but it cannot be realized."
"Only one?" said Graumännchen. "I would grant thee willingly two or three. But what might be thy wish?"
"My greatest wish," replied the fisherman, "is to be set back five hundred years, in order that, instead of that heap of ruins across there, the Treseburg might raise its proud battlements and tower."
"Well," said Graumännchen, "that can easily happen," and bade him close his eyes for a minute. He did so, and on opening them again gazed around him in wonder, for there opposite on the dark rock stood the Treseburg, that he had so often seen in ruins. Really and truly there it stood, with white walls, colossal round tower at the entrance, battlements shimmering in the sunlight, and squires glittering in steel, with sword and lance.
The fisherman almost devoured the singular picture with his eyes, and in his admiration could not turn away his gaze, till Graumännchen put an end to his puzzlement with the question, "Thy wish is granted; art thou satisfied?"