One morning, a handsome young man was going through the forest. The sun shone bright, the birds sang, a cool breeze crept through the leaves, and he was full of joy and gladness. He had as yet met no one, when he suddenly perceived the old Witch kneeling on the ground cutting grass with a sickle. She had already thrust a whole load into her cloth, and near it stood two baskets, which were filled with wild apples and pears. “But, good little Mother,” said he, “how can you carry all that away?” “I must carry it, dear Sir,” answered she; “rich folk’s children have no need to do such things, but with the peasant folk the saying goes, ‘Don’t look behind you, you will only see how crooked your back is!’ “Will you help me?” she said, as he remained standing by her. “You have still a straight back and young legs, it would be a trifle to you. Besides, my house is not so very far from here. It stands there on the heath behind the hill. How soon you would bound up thither!” The young man took compassion on the Old Woman. “My father is certainly no peasant,” replied he, “but a rich Count. Nevertheless, that you may see it is not only peasants who can carry things, I will take your bundle.” “If you will try it,” said she, “I shall be very glad. You will certainly have to walk for an hour, but what will that signify to you? Only you must carry the apples and pears as well.” It now seemed to the young man just a little serious, when he heard of an hour’s walk, but the Old Woman would not let him off, packed the bundle on his back, and hung the two baskets on his arm. “See, it is quite light,” said she. “No, it is not light,” answered the Count, and pulled a rueful face. “Verily, the bundle weighs as heavily as if it were full of cobblestones, and the apples and pears are as heavy as lead! I can scarcely breathe.” He had a mind to put everything down again, but the Old Woman would not allow it. “Just look,” said she mockingly, “the young gentleman will not carry what I, an old woman, have so often dragged along! You are ready with fine words, but when it comes to being in earnest, you want to take to your heels. Why are you standing loitering there?” she continued. “Step out. No one will take the bundle off again.” As long as he walked on level ground, it was still bearable, but when they came to the hill and had to climb, and the stones rolled down under his feet as if they were alive, it was beyond his strength. The drops of perspiration stood on his forehead, and ran, hot and cold, down his back. “Dame,” said he, “I can go no farther. I want to rest a little.” “Not here,” answered the Old Woman, “when we have arrived at our journey’s end, you can rest. But now you must go forward. Who knows what good it may do you?” “Old woman, you are shameless!” said the Count, and tried to throw off the bundle, but he labored in vain. It stuck as fast to his back, as if it grew there. He turned and twisted, but he could not get rid of it.