There immediately appeared at this call a form like that of a grim collier or charcoal burner, with a red beard reaching down to his waist, fiery, staring eyes, and armed with a huge cudgel like a weaver’s beam, now raised in wrath to strike the daring scorner. “Your favour, Master Rübezahl,” said Veit, quite undismayed, “pardon me if I do not give you your right title—only hear me, and then do whatever you like. This candid speech and the sorrowful appearance of the man, which betrayed neither insolence nor pertness, softened in some degree the anger of the spirit. “Earthworm,” he said, “what tempts you to disturb me? Do you not know that you must pay for your rashness with your neck and skin?” “Sir,” replied Veit, “it is trouble which compels me to this. I have a request to make, which you could easily grant. If you would lend me a hundred dollars I will repay them at the end of three years, with the usual interest, as sure as I am an honest man.” “Fool!” said the spirit, “am I a Jew, or an usurer, to lend money upon interest? Away to your brother man and borrow there what you need, but leave me in peace.” “Ah,” replied Veit, “it is all over with brotherly kindness. There is no brotherhood in mine and thine.” Upon this he related his story from the beginning, and painted his deep misery so touchingly, that the gnome could not refuse his petition. And even had the poor fellow been less deserving of compassion, there was something so novel and singular to the spirit in the idea of becoming a capitalist and lending out money, that he was inclined, for the sake of the confidence reposed in him, to grant the prayer of the man. “Come, follow me,” he said, leading him through the wood to a remote valley, and stopping at a steep rock, whose base was hid by thick bushes.
When Veit, with no small trouble, had forced his way through the thicket, by the side of his conductor, they reached the mouth of a dark cave. The good Veit was not over-well pleased to be obliged thus to grope in the dark: one cold shiver after another run through him, and his hair stood on end. He very soon, however, saw, to his great joy, a blue flame flickering in the distance; the cavern became enlarged to the size of a spacious hall, the flame burned clear, and floated as a pendant lamp in the centre of the rocky chamber. Upon the floor he espied a brewer’s copper, filled to the brim, with hard bright dollars. When Veit saw this treasure, all his fear fled, and his heart leapt for joy. “Take,” said the spirit, “what you need, be it little or be it much, only give me an acknowledgment for the sum, provided you are skilled in the art of writing.” The debtor assented, and counted out to himself, conscientiously, the hundred dollars, not one more, not one less. The spirit appeared to pay no attention to the counting out of the money, but turned himself away, and sought for his writing materials. Veit wrote the bond, and made it as binding as possible; the gnome then locked it up in an iron box,
