eart from another's breast without
his knowing it, and without endangering his life; you would have to be
a sorcerer to do that."

"But I assure you," cried Michel indignantly, "that you and Ezekiel,
and all the rich people who have had dealings with me, have hearts as
cold as your own, and I have their true hearts here in my chamber."

"Why, how the lies slip over your tongue!" laughed Peter. "You may tell
that to some body else. Do you suppose that I haven't seen dozens of
just such imitations on my travels? The hearts in your chamber are
fashioned from wax! You are a rich fellow, I admit, but no sorcerer."

The giant, in a rage, flung open the chamber door. "Come in here, and
read all these labels; and look! that glass there holds Peter Munk's
heart. Do you see how it beats? Can one imitate that too in wax?"

"Nevertheless, it is made of wax;" exclaimed Peter. "A real heart
doesn't beat in that way; and besides, I still have my own in my
breast. No indeed, you are not a sorcerer!"

"But I will prove it to you!" cried the giant, angrily. "You shall feel
it yourself, and acknowledge that it is your heart." He took it out,
tore Peter's jacket open, and took a stone from the young man's breast
and held it up to him. Then taking up the beating heart, he breathed on
it, and placed it carefully in its place, and at once Peter felt it
beating in his breast, and he could once more rejoice thereat.

"How is it with you now?" asked Michel smiling.

"Verily, you were right," answered Peter, meanwhile drawing the little
crystal cross from his pocket. "I would not have believed that one
could do such a thing!"

"Is it not so? And I can practice magic, as you see; but come, I will
put the stone back again now."

"Gently, Herr Michel!" cried Peter, taking a step backward, and holding
up the cross between them. "One catches mice with cheese, and this time
you are trapped." And forthwith, Peter began to pray, speaking whatever
words came readily to his mind.

Thereupon, Michel became smaller and smaller, sank down to the floor,
writhed and twisted about like a worm, and gasped and groaned, while
all the hearts began to beat and knock against their glass cages, until
it sounded like the workshop of a clock-maker. Peter was very much
frightened, and ran out of the house, and, driven on by terror, scaled
the cliffs; for he heard Michel get up from the floor, stamp and rage,
and shout after him the most terrible curses. On arri