this night;
sometimes he fancied the dark gigantic Michel was tearing the window
open and reaching in with his monstrous long arm a purse full of gold
pieces, which jingled clearly and loudly as he shook them; at another
time he saw the little friendly glass-mannikin riding upon a huge green
bottle about the room, and thought he heard again the same hoarse
laughter as in the Tannenbuehl; again something hummed into his left ear
the following verse:

"In Holland I wot,
There's gold to be got,
Small price for a lot,
Who would have it not?"

Again he heard in his right ear the song of the Schatzhauser in the
green forest, and a soft voice whispered to him, "Stupid Coal-Peter,
stupid Peter Munk you cannot find a rhyme with 'place,' and yet are
born on a Sunday at twelve o'clock precisely. Rhyme, dull Peter,
rhyme!"

He groaned, he wearied himself to find a rhyme, but never having made
one in his life, his trouble in his dream was fruitless. When he awoke
the next morning with the first dawn, his dream seemed strange to him;
he sat down at the table with his arms crossed, and meditated upon the
whisperings that were still ringing in his ears. He said to himself,
"Rhyme, stupid Peter, rhyme," knocking his forehead with his finger,
but no rhyme would come. While still sitting in this mood, looking
gloomily down before him and thinking of a rhyme with "place," he heard
three men passing outside and going into the forest, one of whom was
singing,

"I stood upon the brightest place,
I gazed upon the plain,
And then--oh then--I saw that face,
I never saw again."

These words flashed like lightning through Peter's ear and hastily
starting up, he rushed out of the house, thinking he was mistaken in
what he had heard, ran after the three fellows and seized, suddenly and
rudely, the singer by the arm, crying at the same time, "Stop, friend,
what was it you rhymed with 'place?' Do me the favour to tell me what
you were singing."

"What possesses you, fellow?" replied the Schwarzwaelder. "I may sing
what I like; let go my arm, or----"

"No, you shall tell me what you were singing," shouted Peter, almost
beside himself, clutching him more tightly at the same time. When the
other two saw this, they were not long in falling foul upon poor Peter
with their large fists, and belabouring him till the pain made him
release the third, and he sank exhausted upon his knees. "Now you have
your due," said th