‘Peter,’ said the little man gravely, blowing the smoke of his pipe a long way off, ‘don’t talk to me of these men. What good have they from being apparently happy for a few years here, and the more unhappy for it afterwards? you must not despise your trade; your father and grandfather were honest people, Peter Munk, and they carried on the same trade. Let me not suppose it is love of idleness that brings you to me.’
Peter was startled at the gravity of the little man, and blushed. ‘No, Mr. Schatzhauser,’ said he; ‘idleness is the root of every vice, but you cannot blame me, if another condition pleases me better than my own. A charcoal-burner is, in truth, a very mean personage in this world; the glass manufacturer, the raftsmen, and clock-makers, are people much more looked upon.’
‘Pride will have a fall,’ answered the little man of the pine wood, rather more kindly. ‘What a singular race you are, you men! It is but rarely that one is contented with the condition in which he was born and bred, and I would lay a wager that if you were a glass manufacturer, you would wish to be a timber merchant, and if you were a timber merchant you would take a fancy to the ranger’s place, or the residence of the bailiff. But no matter for that; if you promise to work hard, I will get you something better to do. It is my practice to grant three wishes to those born on a Sunday, who know how to find me out. The first two are quite free from any condition, the third I may refuse, should it be a foolish one. Now, therefore, Peter, say your wishes; but mind you wish something good and useful.’
‘Hurrah!’ shouted Peter; ‘you are a capital glass man, and justly do people call you the treasure-keeper, for treasures seem to be plentiful with you. Well, then, since I may wish what my heart desires, my first wish is that I may be able to dance better than the king of the dancing-room, and to have always as much money in my pocket as fat Hezekiel.’
‘You fool!’ replied the little man angrily, ‘what a paltry wish is this, to be able to dance well and to have money for gambling. Are you not ashamed of this silly wish, you blockish Peter? Would you cheat yourself out of good fortune? What good will you and your poor mother reap from your dancing well? What use will money be to you, which, according to your wish, is only for the public-house, there to be spent like that of the wretched king of the dancing-room? And then you will have nothing for the whole week and starve. Another wish is now left free to you; but have a care to desire something more rational.’
Peter scratched himself behind his ears, and said, after some hesitation, ‘Now I wish for the finest and richest glass factory in the Schwarzwald, with everything appertaining to it, and money to carry it on.’
‘Is that all?’ asked the little man, with a look of anxiety; ‘is there nothing else, Peter?’
‘Why you might add a horse and chaise.’
‘Oh, you stupid Peter!’ cried the little man, while he flung his glass pipe against a thick pine so that it broke in a hundred pieces. ‘Horses? a carriage? Sense, I tell you, sense—common sense and judgment you ought to have wished for, but not a horse and chaise. Come, come, don’t be so sad, we will do all we can to make it turn out for the best, even as it is, for the second wish is on the whole not altogether foolish. A good glass factory will support its man; but you ought to have wished for judgment and sense in addition; a horse and chaise would come as a matter of course.’