‘The poor beast must have lost its power owing to the change of masters,’ said he; ‘but we will not quarrel about it. You shall have back the fifty gold pieces that you gave for him. ‘Aite,’ he cried to his wife, ‘go quickly to the chest upstairs, and bring down the money for these gentlemen.’ ‘Wait a little,’ answered she; ‘I must first bake this fish. It will be spoilt if I leave it now.’ ‘Go this instant, as you are bid,’ shouted the shoemaker, stamping as if he was in a great passion; but, as she did not stir, he drew his knife, and stabbed her in the neck. The blood spurted out freely, and she fell to the ground as if she was dead. ‘What have you done?’ asked the robbers, looking at him in dismay. ‘The poor woman was doing nothing.’ ‘Perhaps I was hasty, but it is easily set right,’ replied the shoemaker, taking down his guitar and beginning to play. Hardly had he struck the first notes than his wife sat up; then got on her feet and danced. The robbers stared with open mouths, and at last they said, ‘Master Joseph, you may keep the fifty gold pieces. But tell us what you will take for your guitar, for you must sell it to us?’ ‘Oh, that is impossible!’ replied the shoemaker, ‘for every time I have a quarrel with my wife I just strike her dead, and so give vent to my anger. This has become such a habit with me that I don’t think I could break myself of it; and, of course, if I got rid of the guitar I could never bring her back to life again.’ However, the robbers would not listen to him, and at last he consented to take forty gold pieces for the guitar. Then they all returned to their cave in the forest, delighted with their new purchase, and longing for a chance of trying its powers. But the captain declared that the first trial belonged to him, and after that the others might have their turn. That evening he called to his wife and said, ‘What have you got for supper?’ ‘Macaroni,’ answered she. ‘Why have you not boiled a fish?’ he cried, and stabber in the neck so that she fell dead. The captain, who was not in the least angry, seized the guitar and began to play; but, let him play as loud as he would, the dead woman never stirred. ‘Oh, lying shoemaker! Oh, abominable knave! Twice has he got the better of me. But I will pay him out!’ So he raged and swore, but it did him no good. The fact remained that he had killed his wife and could not bring her back again. The next morning came one of the robbers to fetch the guitar, and to hear what had happened. ‘Well, how have you got on?’ ‘Oh, splendidly! I stabbed my wife, and then began to play, and now she is as well as ever.’ ‘Did you really? Then this evening I will try for myself.’ Of course the same thing happened over again, till all the wives had been killed secretly, and when there were no more left they whispered to each other the dreadful tale, and swore to be avenged on the shoemaker.