At this moment the wealthy Peter saluted the guests at the windows in a haughty and grave manner, descended from his chaise, and cried: ‘Good evening, mine Host of the Sun. Is fat Hezekiel here?’
To this question a deep voice answered from within: ‘Only come in, Peter; your place is kept for you; we are all here at the cards already.’
Peter entering the parlour, immediately put his hand into his pocket, and perceived, by its being quite full, that Hezekiel must be plentifully supplied. He sat down at the table among the others and played, losing and winning alternately; thus they kept playing till night, when all sober people went home. After having continued for some time by candle-light, two of the gamblers said: ‘Now it is enough, and we must go home to our wives and children.’
But Peter challenged Hezekiel to remain. The latter was unwilling, but said, after a while, ‘Be it as you wish; I will count my money, and then we’ll play dice at five florins the stake, for anything lower is, after all, but child’s play.’ He drew his purse, and, after counting, found he had a hundred florins left; now Peter knew how much he himself had left, without counting first. But if Hezekiel had won before, he now lost stake after stake, and swore most awfully. If he cast a pasch, Peter immediately cast one likewise, and always two points higher. At length he put down the last five florins on the table, saying, ‘Once more; and if I lose this stake also, yet I will not leave off; you will then lend me some of the money you have won now, Peter; one honest fellow helps the other.’
‘As much as you like, even if it were a hundred florins,’ replied Peter, joyful at his gain, and fat Hezekiel rattled the dice and threw up fifteen; ‘Pasch!’ he exclaimed, ‘now we’ll see!’ But Peter threw up eighteen, and, at this moment, a hoarse, well-known voice said behind him, ‘So! that was the last.’
He looked round, and behind him stood the gigantic figure of Michel the Dutchman. Terrified, he dropped the money he had already taken up. But fat Hezekiel, not seeing Michel, demanded that Peter should advance him ten florins for playing. As if in a dream, Peter hastily put his hand into his pocket, but there was no money; he searched in the other pocket, but in vain; he turned his coat inside out, not a farthing, however, fell out; and at this instant he first recollected his first wish, viz. to have always as much money in his pocket as fat Hezekiel. All had now vanished like smoke.
The host and Hezekiel looked at him with astonishment as he still searched for and could not find his money; they would not believe that he had no more left; but when they at length searched his pockets, without finding anything, they were enraged, swearing that gambling Peter was an evil wizard, and had wished away all the money he had won home to his own house. Peter defended himself stoutly, but appearances were against him. Hezekiel protested he would tell this shocking story to all the people in the Schwarzwald, and the host vowed he would the following morning early go into the town and inform against Peter as a sorcerer, adding that he had no doubt of his being burnt alive. Upon this they fell furiously upon him, tore off his coat, and kicked him out of doors.
Not one star was twinkling in the sky to lighten Peter’s way as he sneaked sadly towards his home, but still he could distinctly recognise a dark form striding by his side, which at length said, ‘It is all over with you, Peter Munk; all your splendour is at an end, and this I could have foretold you even at the time when you would not listen to me, but rather ran to the silly glass dwarf. You now see to what you have come by disregarding my advice. But try your fortune with me this time, I have compassion on your fate. No one ever yet repented of applying to me, and if you don’t mind the walk to the Tannenbühl, I shall be there all day to-morrow and you may speak to me, if you will call.’ Peter now very clearly perceived who was speaking to him, but feeling a sensation of awe, he made no answer and ran towards home.
When, on the Monday morning, he came to his factory, he not only found his workmen, but also other people whom no one likes to see, viz. the bailiff and three beadles. The bailiff wished Peter good morning, asked him how he had slept, and then took from his pocket a long list of Peter’s creditors, saying, with a stern look, ‘Can you pay or not? Be short, for I have no time to lose, and you know it is full three leagues to the prison.’ Peter in despair confessed he had nothing left, telling the bailiff he might value all the premises, horses and carts. But while they went about examining and valuing the things, Peter said to himself, ‘Well, it is but a short way to the Tannenbühl, and as the little man has not helped me, I will now for once try the big man.’ He ran towards the Tannenbühl as fast as if the beadles were at his heels. On passing the spot where the Little Glass Man had first spoken to him, he felt as if an invisible hand were stopping him, but he tore himself away and ran onwards till he came to the boundary which he had well marked. Scarcely had he, quite out of breath, called ‘Dutch Michel, Mr. Dutch Michel!’ when suddenly the gigantic raftsman with his pole stood before him.
‘Have you come then?’ said the latter, laughing. ‘Were they going to fleece you and sell you to your creditors? Well, be easy, all your sorrow comes, as I have always said, from the Little Glass Man, the Separatist and Pietist. When one gives, one ought to give right plentifully and not like that skinflint. But come,’ he continued, turning towards the forest, ‘follow me to my house, there we’ll see whether we can strike a bargain.’