When he had got so high that the
head of the dead man showed at the window, the count, who was watching
in his bed, fired a pistol at him, and immediately the master let the
poor sinner fall down, and hid himself in one corner. The night was
sufficiently lighted by the moon, for the master to see distinctly how
the count got out of the window on to the ladder, came down, carried
the dead body into the garden, and began to dig a hole in which to lay
it. “Now,” thought the thief, “the favourable moment has come,” stole
nimbly out of his corner, and climbed up the ladder straight into the
countess’s bedroom. “Dear wife,” he began in the count’s voice, “the
thief is dead, but, after all, he is my godson, and has been more of a
scape-grace than a villain. I will not put him to open shame; besides,
I am sorry for the parents. I will bury him myself before daybreak, in
the garden that the thing may not be known, so give me the sheet, I
will wrap up the body in it, and bury him as a dog burries things by
scratching.” The countess gave him the sheet. “I tell you what,”
continued the thief, “I have a fit of magnanimity on me, give me the
ring too,—the unhappy man risked his life for it, so he may take it
with him into his grave.” She would not gainsay the count, and although
she did it unwillingly she drew the ring from her finger, and gave it
to him. The thief made off with both these things, and reached home
safely before the count in the garden had finished his work of burying. What a long face the count did pull when the master came next morning,
and brought him the sheet and the ring. “Art thou a wizard?” said he,
“Who has fetched thee out of the grave in which I myself laid thee, and
brought thee to life again?” “You did not bury me,” said the thief,
“but the poor sinner on the gallows,” and he told him exactly how
everything had happened, and the count was forced to own to him that he
was a clever, crafty thief. “But thou hast not reached the end yet,” he
added, “thou hast still to perform the third task, and if thou dost not
succeed in that, all is of no use.” The master smiled and returned no
answer. When night had fallen he went with a long sack on his back, a
bundle under his arms, and a lantern in his hand to the village-church. In the sack he had some crabs, and in the bundle short wax-candles. He
sat down in the churchyard, took out a crab, and stuck a wax-candle on
his back. Then he lighted the little light, put the crab on the ground,
and let it creep about. He took a second out of the sack, and treated
it in the same way, and so on until the last was out of the sack. Hereupon he put on a long black garment that looked like a monk’s cowl,
and stuck a gray beard on his chin. When at last he was quite
unrecognizable, he took the sack in which the crabs had been, went into
the church, and ascended the pulpit. The clock in the tower was just
striking twelve; when the last stroke had sounded, he cried with a loud
and piercing voice, “Hearken, sinful men, the end of all things has
come! The last day is at hand! Hearken! Hearken! Whosoever wishes to go
to heaven with me must creep into the sack. I am Peter, who opens and
shuts the gate of heaven. Behold how the dead outside there in the
churchyard, are wandering about collecting their bones. Come, come, and
creep into the sack; the world is about to be destroyed!” The cry
echoed through the whole village. The parson and clerk who lived
nearest to the church, heard it first, and when they saw the lights
which were moving about the churchyard, they observed that something
unusual was going on, and went into the church. They listened to the
sermon for a while, and then the clerk nudged the parson and said, “It
would not be amiss if we were to use the opportunity together, and
before the dawning of the last day, find an easy way of getting to
heaven.” “To tell the truth,” answered the parson, “that is what I
myself have been thinking, so if you are inclined, we will set out on
our way.” “Yes,” answered the clerk, “but you, the pastor, have the
precedence, I will follow.” So the parson went first, and ascended the
pulpit where the master opened his sack. The parson crept in first, and
then the clerk. The master immediately tied up the sack tightly, seized
it by the middle, and dragged it down the pulpit-steps, and whenever
the heads of the two fools bumped against the steps, he cried, “We are
going over the mountains.” Then he drew them through the village in the
same way, and when they were passing through puddles, he cried, “Now we
are going through wet clouds.” And when at last he was dragging them up
the steps of the castle, he cried, “Now we are on the steps of heaven,
and will soon be in the outer court.” When he had got to the top, he
pushed the sack into the pigeon-house, and when the pigeons fluttered
about, he said, “Hark how glad the angels are, and how they are
flapping their wings!” Then he bolted the door upon them, and went
away. Next morning he went to the count, and told him that he had performed
the third task also, and had carried the parson and clerk out of the
church. “Where hast thou left them?” asked the lord. “They are lying
upstairs in a sack in the pigeon-house, and imagine that they are in
heaven.” The count went up himself, and convinced himself that the
master had told the truth. When he had delivered the parson and clerk
from their captivity, he said, “Thou art an arch-thief, and hast won
thy wager. For once thou escapest with a whole skin, but see that thou
leavest my land, for if ever thou settest foot on it again, thou may’st
count on thy elevation to the gallows.” The arch-thief took leave of
his parents, once more went forth into the wide world, and no one has
ever heard of him since. 193 The Drummer

A young drummer went out quite alone one evening into the country, and
came to a lake on the shore of which he perceived three pieces of white
linen lying. “What fine linen,” said he, and put one piece in his
pocket. He returned home, thought no more of what he had found, and
went to bed. Just as he was going to sleep, it seemed to him as if some
one was saying his name. He listened, and was aware of a soft voice
which cried to him, “Drummer, drummer, wake up!” As it was a dark night
he could see no one, but it appeared to him that a figure was hovering
about his bed. “What do you want?” he asked. “Give me back my dress,”
answered the voice, “that you took away from me last evening by the
lake.” “You shall have it back again,” said the drummer, “if you will
tell me who you are.” “Ah,” replied the voice, “I am the daughter of a
mighty King; but I have fallen into the power of a witch, and am shut
up on the glass-mountain. I have to bathe in the lake every day with my
two sisters, but I cannot fly back again without my dress. My sisters
have gone away, but I have been forced to stay behind. I entreat you to
give me my dress back.” “Be easy, poor child,” said the drummer.