“Owner of all in the pine-woods green,
Many a hundred years thou hast seen,
Thine all the lands where the pine-trees grow—
To the Sunday-born thy face now show!”
At once the little Glass-man appeared, but he did not seem at all friendly; but looked gloomy and sad. He wore a coat of black glass, and a long crape veil floated from his hat, and Peter knew very well for whom he wore mourning.
“What do you want with me, Peter Munk?” he asked in deep tones.
“There is still a wish due to me, Mr. Glass-man,” answered Peter with downcast eyes.
“Is it possible for a heart of stone to wish for anything?” said the little man. “You have everything a man of your bad disposition requires, and I shall not readily grant your request.”
That night Peter heard the voice whispering in his ear. (P. [266].)