Peter took the cross, impressed all the words on his memory, and started on his way to the Dutchman Michel’s residence; there he called his name three times and immediately the giant stood before him.
‘You have slain your wife?’ he asked, with a grim laugh. ‘I should have done the same; she wasted your property on beggars; but you will be obliged to leave the country for some time; and I suppose you want money and have come to get it?’
‘You have hit it,’ replied Peter; ‘and pray let it be a large sum, for it is a long way to America.’
Michel leading the way, they went into his cottage; there he opened a chest containing much money and took out whole rolls of gold. While he was counting it on the table Peter said, ‘You’re a wag, Michel. You have told me a fib, saying that I had a stone in my breast, and that you had my heart.’
‘And is it not so then?’ asked Michel, astonished. ‘Do you feel your heart? Is it not cold as ice? Have you any fear or sorrow? Do you repent of anything?’
‘You have only made my heart to cease beating, but I still have it in my breast, and so has Hezekiel, who told me you had deceived us both. You are not the man who, unperceived and without danger, could tear the heart from the breast; it would require witchcraft on your part.’
‘But I assure you,’ cried Michel angrily, ‘you and Hezekiel and all the rich people, who have sold themselves to me, have hearts as cold as yours, and their real hearts I have here in my chamber.’
‘Ah! how glibly you can tell lies,’ said Peter, laughing; ‘you must tell that to another to be believed; think you I have not seen such tricks by dozens in my journeys? Your hearts in the chamber are made of wax; you’re a rich fellow I grant, but you are no magician.’
Now the giant was enraged and burst open the chamber door, saying, ‘Come in and read all the labels, and look yonder is Peter Munk’s heart; do you see how it writhes? Can that too be of wax?’