hands of the little black gentleman. The best thing to do is to sign the agreement. Later on I shall discover a means of saving my soul from Hell.”
Without further hesitation, he put his name to the paper, and even before the Devil departed, the miraculous took place.
His fire lighted itself, and a delicious joint of beef was roasting on the spit. On the table he found a large jug of foaming beer, all kinds of pastries, and, better than all, half a dozen carts drawn up at the door of the forge, from which about twenty workmen were silently unloading coal, wood, iron, lead, zinc, and even copper. They carried everything into the forge.
From early morning the forge again trembled under the strokes of the hammer. They often resounded even after the village slept.
Meanwhile the days flew by, days became weeks, weeks months, and months years. Before Smith had had time to think about it, the seven years had passed, and the Devil came to claim poor Smith’s soul.
“Hallo! Listen to me, Smith Verholen.
Don’t you remember that for seven years’ iron and coal
You sold to me your immortal soul?”
Smith was as unperturbed as though he were serving a customer. “Hallo! Good morning,” he cried, laughing. “How are you? You appear to be well fed, for you have a face like a butcher’s, and calves like a groom.”
The fallen angel was visibly impatient at this nonsense, and answered sharply, “You know what you sold to my master seven years ago. No more shuffling, follow me at once to Hell.”
“How should I have forgotten our agreement?” said Smith. “How could you think me guilty of such a thing? I am a man of honour, as I am about to convince you. Only I cannot go with you in my working clothes, and without washing my hands and brushing my hair. A moment’s patience. Rest a while in this chair. I shall be with you directly.”