When they had got into the valley, the clock of the neighbouring
monastery struck twelve, and the song ceased. In a moment all had
vanished, and the hill lay in solitude in the moonlight. The two travellers found an inn, and covered themselves up on their
straw-beds with their coats, but in their weariness forgot to take the
coals out of them before doing so. A heavy weight on their limbs
awakened them earlier than usual. They felt in the pockets, and could
not believe their eyes when they saw that they were not filled with
coals, but with pure gold; happily, too, the hair of their heads and
beards was there again as thick as ever. They had now become rich folks, but the goldsmith, who, in accordance
with his greedy disposition, had filled his pockets better, was as rich
again as the tailor. A greedy man, even if he has much, still wishes to
have more, so the goldsmith proposed to the tailor that they should
wait another day, and go out again in the evening in order to bring
back still greater treasures from the old man on the hill. The tailor
refused, and said, “I have enough and am content; now I shall be a
master, and marry my dear object (for so he called his sweetheart), and
I am a happy man.” But he stayed another day to please him. In the
evening the goldsmith hung a couple of bags over his shoulders that he
might be able to stow away a great deal, and took the road to the hill. He found, as on the night before, the little folks at their singing and
dancing, and the old man again shaved him clean, and signed to him to
take some coal away with him. He was not slow about sticking as much
into his bags as would go, went back quite delighted, and covered
himself over with his coat. “Even if the gold does weigh heavily,” said
he, “I will gladly bear that,” and at last he fell asleep with the
sweet anticipation of waking in the morning an enormously rich man. When he opened his eyes, he got up in haste to examine his pockets, but
how amazed he was when he drew nothing out of them but black coals, and
that howsoever often he put his hands in them. “The gold I got the
night before is still there for me,” thought he, and went and brought
it out, but how shocked he was when he saw that it likewise had again
turned into coal. He smote his forehead with his dusty black hand, and
then he felt that his whole head was bald and smooth, as was also the
place where his beard should have been. But his misfortunes were not
yet over; he now remarked for the first time that in addition to the
hump on his back, a second, just as large, had grown in front on his
breast. Then he recognized the punishment of his greediness, and began
to weep aloud. The good tailor, who was wakened by this, comforted the
unhappy fellow as well as he could, and said, “Thou hast been my
comrade in my travelling time; thou shalt stay with me and share in my
wealth.” He kept his word, but the poor goldsmith was obliged to carry
the two humps as long as he lived, and to cover his bald head with a
cap. 183 The Giant and the Tailor

A certain tailor who was great at boasting but ill at doing, took it
into his head to go abroad for a while, and look about the world. As
soon as he could manage it, he left his workshop, and wandered on his
way, over hill and dale, sometimes hither, sometimes thither, but ever
on and on. Once when he was out he perceived in the blue distance a
steep hill, and behind it a tower reaching to the clouds, which rose up
out of a wild dark forest. “Thunder and lightning,” cried the tailor,
“what is that?” and as he was strongly goaded by curiosity, he went
boldly towards it. But what made the tailor open his eyes and mouth
when he came near it, was to see that the tower had legs, and leapt in
one bound over the steep hill, and was now standing as an all powerful
giant before him. “What dost thou want here, thou tiny fly’s leg?”
cried the giant, with a voice as if it were thundering on every side. The tailor whimpered, “I want just to look about and see if I can earn
a bit of bread for myself, in this forest.” “If that is what thou art
after,” said the giant, “thou mayst have a place with me.” “If it must
be, why not? What wages shall I receive?” “Thou shalt hear what wages
thou shalt have. Every year three hundred and sixty-five days, and when
it is leap-year, one more into the bargain. Does that suit thee?” “All
right,” replied the tailor, and thought, in his own mind, “a man must
cut his coat according to his cloth; I will try to get away as fast as
I can.” On this the giant said to him, “Go, little ragamuffin, and
fetch me a jug of water.” “Had I not better bring the well itself at
once, and the spring too?” asked the boaster, and went with the pitcher
to the water. “What! the well and the spring too,” growled the giant in
his beard, for he was rather clownish and stupid, and began to be
afraid. “That knave is not a fool, he has a wizard in his body. Be on
thy guard, old Hans, this is no serving-man for thee.” When the tailor
had brought the water, the giant bade him go into the forest, and cut a
couple of blocks of wood and bring them back. “Why not the whole
forest, at once, with one stroke. The whole forest, young and old, with
all that is there, both rough and smooth?” asked the little tailor, and
went to cut the wood. “What! the whole forest, young and old, with all
that is there, both rough and smooth, and the well and its spring too,”
growled the credulous giant in his beard, and was still more terrified. “The knave can do much more than bake apples, and has a wizard in his
body. Be on thy guard, old Hans, this is no serving-man for thee!” When
the tailor had brought the wood, the giant commanded him to shoot two
or three wild boars for supper. “Why not rather a thousand at one shot,
and bring them all here?” inquired the ostentatious tailor. “What!”
cried the timid giant in great terror; “Let well alone to-night, and
lie down to rest.”

The giant was so terribly alarmed that he could not close an eye all
night long for thinking what would be the best way to get rid of this
accursed sorcerer of a servant. Time brings counsel. Next morning the
giant and the tailor went to a marsh, round which stood a number of
willow-trees. Then said the giant, “Hark thee, tailor, seat thyself on
one of the willow-branches, I long of all things to see if thou art big
enough to bend it down.” All at once the tailor was sitting on it,
holding his breath, and making himself so heavy that the bough bent
down. When, however, he was compelled to draw breath, it hurried him
(for unfortunately he had not put his goose in his pocket) so high into
the air that he never was seen again, and this to the great delight of
the giant. If the tailor has not fallen down again, he must be hovering
about in the air. 184 The Nail

A merchant had done good business at the fair; he had sold his wares,
and lined his money-bags with gold and silver.