On the third night he sat down again on his bench, and said, in the most
desponding way: “If I could only shudder!” When it got late, six big men
came in carrying a coffin. Then he cried: “Ha! ha! that’s most likely
my little cousin who only died a few days ago”; and beckoning with his
finger he called out: “Come, my small cousin, come.” They placed the
coffin on the ground, and he approached it and took off the cover. In
it lay a dead man. He felt his face, and it was cold as ice. “Wait,” he
said “I’ll heat you up a bit,” went to the fire, warmed his hand, and
laid it on the man’s face, but the dead remained cold. Then he lifted
him out, sat down at the fire, laid him on his knee, and rubbed his arms
that the blood should circulate again. When that too had no effect it
occurred to him that if two people lay together in bed they warmed each
other; so he put him into the bed, covered him up, and lay down beside
him; after a time the corpse became warm and began to move. Then the
youth said: “Now, my little cousin, what would have happened if I
hadn’t warmed you?” But the dead man rose up and cried out: “Now I
will strangle you.” “What!” said he, “is that all the thanks I get? You
should be put straight back into your coffin,” lifted him up, threw him
in, and closed the lid. Then the six men came and carried him out again.
“I simply can’t shudder,” he said, “and it’s clear I sha’n’t learn it in
a lifetime here.”
Then a man entered, of more than ordinary size and of a very fearful
appearance; but he was old and had a white beard. “Oh! you miserable
creature, now you will soon know what it is to shudder,” he cried, “for
you must die.” “Not so quickly,” answered the youth. “If I am to die,
you must catch me first.” “I shall soon lay hold of you,” spoke the
monster. “Gently, gently, don’t boast too much, I’m as strong as you,
and stronger too.” “We’ll soon see,” said the old man; “if you are
stronger than I then I’ll let you off; come, let’s have a try.” Then he
led him through some dark passages to a forge, and grasping an axe he
drove one of the anvils with a blow into the earth. “I can do better
than that,” cried the youth, and went to the other anvil. The old man
drew near him in order to watch closely, and his white beard hung right
down. The youth seized the axe, cleft the anvil open, and jammed in the
old man’s beard. “Now I have you,” said the youth; “this time it’s your
turn to die.” Then he seized an iron rod and belabored the old man till
he, whimpering, begged him to leave off, and he would give him great
riches. The youth drew out the axe and let him go. The old man led him
back to the castle and showed him in a cellar three chests of gold. “One
of these,” said he, “belongs to the poor, one to the King, and the
third is yours.” At that moment twelve struck, and the spirit vanished,
leaving the youth alone in the dark. “I’ll surely be able to find a way
out,” said he, and groping about he at length found his way back to the
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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