who, unperceived and without danger, could tear the
heart from the breast; it would require witchcraft on your part."

"But I assure you," cried Michel, angrily, "you and Hezekiel and all
the rich people, who have sold themselves to me, have hearts as cold as
yours, and their real hearts I have here in my chamber."

"Ah! how glibly you can tell lies," said Peter, laughing, "you must
tell that to another to be believed; think you I have not seen such
tricks by dozens in my journeys? Your hearts in the chamber are made
of wax; you're a rich fellow I grant, but you are no magician."

Now the giant was enraged and burst open the chamber door, saying,
"Come in and read all the labels and look yonder is Peter Munk's heart;
do you see how it writhes? Can that too be of wax?"

"For all that, it is of wax," replied Peter. "A genuine heart does not
writhe like that. I have mine still in my breast. No! you are no
magician."

"But I will prove it to you," cried the former angrily. "You shall
feel that it is your heart." He took it, opened Peter's waistcoat,
took the stone from his breast, and held it up. Then taking the heart,
he breathed on it, and set it carefully in its proper place, and
immediately Peter felt how it beat, and could rejoice again. "How do
you feel now?" asked Michel, smiling.

"True enough, you were right," replied Peter, taking carefully the
little cross from his pocket. "I should never have believed such
things could be done."

"You see I know something of witchcraft, do I not? But, come, I will
now replace the stone again."

"Gently, Herr Michel," cried Peter, stepping backwards, and holding up
the cross, "mice are caught with bacon, and this time you have been
deceived;" and immediately he began to repeat the prayers that came
into his mind.

Now Michel became less and less, fell to the ground, and writhed like a
worm, groaning and moaning, and all the hearts round began to beat, and
became convulsed, so that it sounded like a clockmaker's workshop.

Peter was terrified, his mind was quite disturbed; he ran from the
house, and, urged by the anguish of the moment, climbed up a steep
rock, for he heard Michel get up, stamping and raving, and denouncing
curses on him. When he reached the top, he ran towards the Tannenbuehl;
a dreadful thunder-storm came on; lightning flashed around him,
splitting the trees, but he reached the precincts of the glass-mannikin
in safety.

His heart beat