The Soldier lay down and fell into a deep slumber. Towards evening the old man awoke him—
“Get up, grandson.”
He got up.
“What’s to be done now? As the merchant’s daughter is dead, you see, her father will come after you, and will bid you to his house to read psalms over the dead body.”
“Well, grandfather, am I to go, or not?”
“If you go, there’ll be an end of you; and if you don’t go, there’ll be an end of you! Still, it’s best to go.”
“But if anything happens, how shall I get out of it?”
“Listen, grandson! When you go to the merchant’s he will offer you brandy; don’t you drink much—drink only a moderate allowance. Afterwards the merchant will take you into the room in which his daughter is lying in her coffin, and will lock you in there. You will read out from the psalter all the evening, and up to midnight. Exactly at midnight a strong wind will suddenly begin to blow, the coffin will begin to shake, its lid will fall off. Well, as soon as these horrors begin, jump on to the stove as quick as you can, squeeze yourself into a corner, and silently offer up prayers. She won’t find you there.”
Half an hour later came the merchant, and besought the Soldier, crying:
“Ah, Soldier! there’s a daughter of mine dead; come and read the psalter over her.”