This was certainly rather an abrupt and unconnected mode of commencing
conversation. It might indeed be supposed to refer to the course of
Gluck's thoughts, which had first produced the dwarf's observations out
of the pot; but whatever it referred to, Gluck had no inclination to
dispute the dictum.

"Wouldn't it, sir?" said Gluck, very mildly and submissively indeed.

"No," said the dwarf, conclusively. "No, it wouldn't." And with that,
the dwarf pulled his cap hard over his brows, and took two turns of
three feet long, up and down the room, lifting his legs very high, and
setting them down very hard. This pause gave time for Gluck to collect
his thoughts a little, and, seeing no great reason to view his
diminutive visitor with dread, and feeling his curiosity overcome his
amazement, he ventured on a question of peculiar delicacy.

"Pray, sir," said Gluck rather hesitatingly, "were you my mug?"

On which the little man turned sharp round, walked straight up to Gluck,
and drew himself up to his full height. "I," said the little man, "am
the King of the Golden River." Whereupon he turned about again, and took
two more turns, some six feet long, in order to allow time for the
consternation which this announcement produced in his auditor to
evaporate. After which he again walked up to Gluck and stood still, as
if expecting some comment on his communication.

Gluck determined to say something, at all events. "I hope your Majesty
is very well," said Gluck.

"Listen!" said the little man, deigning no reply to this polite inquiry.
"I am the King of what you mortals call the Golden River. The shape you
saw me in was owing to the malice of a stronger king, from whose
enchantments you have this instant freed me. What I have seen of you,
and your conduct to your wicked brothers, renders me willing to serve
you; therefore attend to what I tell you. Whoever shall climb to the top
of that mountain from which you see the Golden River issue, and shall
cast into the stream at its source three drops of holy water, for him,
and for him only, the river shall turn to gold. But no one failing in
his first, can succeed in a second attempt; and if anyone shall cast
unholy water into the river, it will overwhelm him, and he will become a
black stone." So saying, the King of the Golden River turned away, and
deliberately walked into the centre of the hottest flame of the furnace.
His figure became red, white, transparent, dazzling,--a blaz