“Oh, what has happened?” said the Devil. “It seems to me that black magic is also practised here. I cannot rise from this chair.”
“Yes, my friend,” said Smith, with the most innocent look, “it is a little joke of my own. Do you know what it means? That you will remain there at my pleasure.”
The Devil made frantic efforts to rise, but all in vain; he was at Smith’s mercy, and was as though screwed to the chair. This was hardly to his liking, and when he saw Smith heating an iron bar, and glancing at him significantly from time to time, he decided that his best course was to take it quietly.
“Smith,” he began in pleading tones, “listen to me. I will give you iron, wood, and coal for another seven years, but for the love of God let me get out of this chair.”
“I accept; you are free,” replied the other, rubbing his hands, and the Devil departed.
AS MUCH COAL AS HE COULD WISH
Now the blacksmith Verholen had as much iron and coal as he could wish. From dawn till evening the anvil shook under the strokes of the hammer. Again the days flew by, became weeks, months, then years, and one fine morning the same Devil came to Smith’s door, and cried in thundering tones, “Hallo! How now! Smith Verholen.
Don’t you remember that for seven years’ iron and coal
You sold to me your immortal soul?”
“Ha ha! there you are again,” said our friend, and he immediately took off his leather apron in preparation for a start. “You are a little later than the appointed time. I have such splendid walnuts, I should like to gather a little basketful to nibble on the way. I have heard that devils like nuts. Would you gather me a basketful, as you can climb so well? Come, will you do it?”