hidden under the pillow.’ ‘Bless me!’ cried the miller, and went there
and found the wine. ‘Now go on,’ said he. The peasant made the raven
croak again, and said: ‘In the second place, he says that there is some
roast meat in the tiled stove.’ ‘Upon my word!’ cried the miller, and
went thither, and found the roast meat. The peasant made the raven
prophesy still more, and said: ‘Thirdly, he says that there is some
salad on the bed.’ ‘That would be a fine thing!’ cried the miller, and
went there and found the salad. At last the peasant pinched the raven
once more till he croaked, and said: ‘Fourthly, he says that there
are some cakes under the bed.’ ‘That would be a fine thing!’ cried the
miller, and looked there, and found the cakes.
And now the two sat down to the table together, but the miller’s wife
was frightened to death, and went to bed and took all the keys with
her. The miller would have liked much to know the fifth, but the little
peasant said: ‘First, we will quickly eat the four things, for the fifth
is something bad.’ So they ate, and after that they bargained how much
the miller was to give for the fifth prophecy, until they agreed on
three hundred talers. Then the peasant once more pinched the raven’s
head till he croaked loudly. The miller asked: ‘What did he say?’ The
peasant replied: ‘He says that the Devil is hiding outside there in
the closet on the porch.’ The miller said: ‘The Devil must go out,’ and
opened the house-door; then the woman was forced to give up the keys,
and the peasant unlocked the closet. The parson ran out as fast as he
could, and the miller said: ‘It was true; I saw the black rascal with my
own eyes.’ The peasant, however, made off next morning by daybreak with
the three hundred talers.
At home the small peasant gradually launched out; he built a beautiful
house, and the peasants said: ‘The small peasant has certainly been to
the place where golden snow falls, and people carry the gold home in
shovels.’ Then the small peasant was brought before the mayor, and
bidden to say from whence his wealth came. He answered: ‘I sold my cow’s
skin in the town, for three hundred talers.’ When the peasants heard
that, they too wished to enjoy this great profit, and ran home, killed
all their cows, and stripped off their skins in order to sell them in
the town to the greatest advantage. The mayor, however, said: ‘But my
servant must go first.’ When she came to the merchant in the town, he
did not give her more than two talers for a skin, and when the others
came, he did not give them so much, and said: ‘What can I do with all
these skins?’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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