“Ah! you have just made my heart stand still, but I have it still in my breast and so has Ezekiel. It was he who told me you had lied to us; you are not the one to take one’s heart out without his feeling it, that would be magic.” “But I assure you I did,” said Michael angrily. “You, and Ezekiel, and all the other rich people who have had dealings with me have hearts of stone, and your own original hearts I have here, shut up in a room.” “Now how easily the lies trip from your tongue!” laughed Peter. “You must make some one else believe that. I have seen dozens of similar tricks on my travels. The hearts you have in your room there are merely waxen ones. You are a rich fellow, I allow, but you do not understand magic.” The giant became furious and tore open the door of the room. “Come in and read all these labels; look at this, look at that, do you see it is labelled ‘Peter Munk’s Heart!’ do you see how it throbs? Could you make a waxen one do that?” “All the same, it is wax,” said Peter. “A real heart does not beat like that, I have mine still in my breast. No, it is evident you do not understand magic.” “But I will prove it to you!” cried the angry Michael; “you shall feel for yourself that it is your own heart.” He tore Peter’s vest open, took a stone from his breast and showed it to him. Then he took the real heart, breathed on it, and put it carefully in its place, and immediately to his delight Peter felt it begin to beat. “Now what have you to say?” laughed Michael. “Truly you were in the right,” answered Peter, carefully drawing the little cross from his pocket. “I would not have believed it possible for a man to do such a thing.” “Well, it was as I said,” answered Michael; “you see I do understand magic, but come, now, I must put the stone back in your breast.” “Softly, softly, Michael!” cried Peter, and he took a step backwards and held out the cross towards him. “With a morsel of cheese the mouse is caught, and this time it is you who have been caught.” And he at once began to murmur the first prayer that came to his lips. At once Michael began to dwindle away, fell down on the ground and writhed like a worm, and groaned and sighed, and all the hearts in the glass bottles began to throb and beat until it sounded like the clock-maker’s workshop. But Peter was afraid, and his courage began to fail him, and he turned and ran out of the house and, driven by fear, he climbed the steep face of the rocky ravine, for he could hear Michael raging and stamping and uttering fearful oaths. [Illustration: _“Come in and read all these labels,” said the giant._ (P. 270.)] As soon as he reached the top he ran quickly to the clump of black pines. A fearful thunderstorm broke out suddenly, lightning flashed from left to right of him, striking the trees about him, but he reached the domain of the little Glass-man in safety.