"When you are dead, Peter Munk," he replied, "it will not fail you; then, indeed, will that soft, emotional heart be yours once more, and you will be able to feel whatever happens to you, joy or sorrow. But here on this earth it can never return to you! Yes, Peter, you have certainly been on your travels, but the way in which you lived was too aimless to be of any use to you. Settle down somewhere in the forest, build yourself a house, marry; set up in business--it is occupation of which you are in need; you were bored because you were idle, and yet you blamed it all upon this unoffending heart!" Peter perceived that Michael was right in so far as his idleness was concerned, and determined to amass riches for himself. Michael gave him another hundred thousand guilders, and they parted good friends. The story was soon spread throughout the Black-Forest that Charcoal-Peter Munk, or Gambling-Peter, had returned, this time richer than before. And it was the same as it is always: when he was reduced to beggary, they had thrust him from the door in broad daylight; but now, when he once more visited the inn one fine Sunday afternoon, they held out their hands to him, praised his horse, asked him about his travels, and when he sat down to play with Fat Ezekiel with thalers for points, he stood as high in their esteem as ever. He no longer engaged in glass-making, but in timber dealing, though this was merely a blind. His real business was corn-selling and money-lending. By degrees nearly half the Black Forest was in his debt; he lent money only at a ruinously high rate of interest, and sold corn only to the poor, to those who could not pay him cash down for it, at three times its value. He and the bailiff were now on the friendliest terms, and when anybody failed to pay Master Peter Munk to the very day, the bailiff and his myrmidons rode over, made an inventory of all the debtor's belongings and sold him up, driving father, mother and child out into the forest. At first, these proceedings caused the wealthy Peter some trouble; for the poor outcasts besieged his door, the men begging for time to pay, while their wives sought to move his stony heart by drawing his attention to their children, who were crying for bread. But after he had provided himself with one or two big and savage dogs, there was soon an end to these "cat's concerts," as he termed them. He had but to whistle and call his dogs, and the beggars fled, crying and screaming, in all directions.