Hast thou shared thy bread with
the hungry? Hast thou been contented with what thou hast, or didst thou
always desire to have more?” The heart was not slow in answering, “I
have been hard and pitiless, and have never shown any kindness to my
own family. If a beggar came, I turned away my eyes from him. I have
not troubled myself about God, but have thought only of increasing my
wealth. If everything which the sky covers had been mine own, I should
still not have had enough.”

When he was aware of this answer he was greatly alarmed, his knees
began to tremble, and he was forced to sit down. Then there was another knock, but the knock was at the door of his
room. It was his neighbour, a poor man who had a number of children
whom he could no longer satisfy with food. “I know,” thought the poor
man, “that my neighbour is rich, but he is as hard as he is rich. I
don’t believe he will help me, but my children are crying for bread, so
I will venture it.” He said to the rich man, “You do not readily give
away anything that is yours, but I stand here like one who feels the
water rising above his head. My children are starving, lend me four
measures* of corn.” The rich man looked at him long, and then the first
sunbeam of mercy began to melt away a drop of the ice of greediness. “I
will not lend thee four measures,” he answered, “but I will make thee a
present of eight, but thou must fulfil one condition.” “What am I to
do?” said the poor man. “When I am dead, thou shalt watch for three
nights by my grave.” The peasant was disturbed in his mind at this
request, but in the need in which he was, he would have consented to
anything; he accepted, therefore, and carried the corn home with him. It seemed as if the rich man had foreseen what was about to happen, for
when three days were gone by, he suddenly dropped down dead. No one
knew exactly how it came to pass, but no one grieved for him. When he
was buried, the poor man remembered his promise; he would willingly
have been released from it, but he thought, “After all, he acted kindly
by me. I have fed my hungry children with his corn, and even if that
were not the case, where I have once given my promise I must keep it.”
At nightfall he went into the churchyard, and seated himself on the
grave-mound. Everything was quiet, only the moon appeared above the
grave, and frequently an owl flew past and uttered her melancholy cry. When the sun rose, the poor man betook himself in safety to his home,
and in the same manner the second night passed quietly by. On the
evening of the third day he felt a strange uneasiness, it seemed to him
that something was about to happen. When he went out he saw, by the
churchyard-wall, a man whom he had never seen before. He was no longer
young, had scars on his face, and his eyes looked sharply and eagerly
around. He was entirely covered with an old cloak, and nothing was
visible but his great riding-boots. “What are you looking for here?”
the peasant asked. “Are you not afraid of the lonely churchyard?”

“I am looking for nothing,” he answered, “and I am afraid of nothing! I
am like the youngster who went forth to learn how to shiver, and had
his labour for his pains, but got the King’s daughter to wife and great
wealth with her, only I have remained poor. I am nothing but a paid-off
soldier, and I mean to pass the night here, because I have no other
shelter.” “If you are without fear,” said the peasant, “stay with me,
and help me to watch that grave there.”

“To keep watch is a soldier’s business,” he replied, “whatever we fall
in with here, whether it be good or bad, we will share it between us.”
The peasant agreed to this, and they seated themselves on the grave
together. All was quiet until midnight, when suddenly a shrill whistling was
heard in the air, and the two watchers perceived the Evil One standing
bodily before them. “Be off, you ragamuffins!” cried he to them, “the
man who lies in that grave belongs to me; I want to take him, and if
you don’t go away I will wring your necks!” “Sir with the red feather,”
said the soldier, “you are not my captain, I have no need to obey you,
and I have not yet learned how to fear. Go away, we shall stay sitting
here.”

The Devil thought to himself, “Money is the best thing with which to
get hold of these two vagabonds.” So he began to play a softer tune,
and asked quite kindly, if they would not accept a bag of money, and go
home with it? “That is worth listening to,” answered the soldier, “but
one bag of gold won’t serve us, if you will give as much as will go
into one of my boots, we will quit the field for you and go away.”

“I have not so much as that about me,” said the Devil, “but I will
fetch it. In the neighbouring town lives a money-changer who is a good
friend of mine, and will readily advance it to me.” When the Devil had
vanished the soldier took his left boot off, and said, “We will soon
pull the charcoal-burner’s nose for him, just give me your knife,
comrade.” He cut the sole off the boot, and put it in the high grass
near the grave on the edge of a hole that was half over-grown. “That
will do,” said he; “now the chimney-sweep may come.”

They both sat down and waited, and it was not long before the Devil
returned with a small bag of gold in his hand. “Just pour it in,” said
the soldier, raising up the boot a little, “but that won’t be enough.”

The Black One shook out all that was in the bag; the gold fell through,
and the boot remained empty. “Stupid Devil,” cried the soldier, “it
won’t do! Didn’t I say so at once? Go back again, and bring more.” The
Devil shook his head, went, and in an hour’s time came with a much
larger bag under his arm. “Now pour it in,” cried the soldier, “but I
doubt the boot won’t be full.” The gold clinked as it fell, but the
boot remained empty. The Devil looked in himself with his burning eyes,
and convinced himself of the truth. “You have shamefully big calves to
your legs!” cried he, and made a wry face. “Did you think,” replied the
soldier, “that I had a cloven foot like you? Since when have you been
so stingy? See that you get more gold together, or our bargain will
come to nothing!” The Wicked One went off again. This time he stayed
away longer, and when at length he appeared he was panting under the
weight of a sack which lay on his shoulders. He emptied it into the
boot, which was just as far from being filled as before. He became
furious, and was just going to tear the boot out of the soldier’s
hands, but at that moment the first ray of the rising sun broke forth
from the sky, and the Evil Spirit fled away with loud shrieks. The poor
soul was saved.