t, it was a collection of the most respectable hearts twenty
leagues around.

"Look!" said Dutch Michel, "all these have shaken off the anxieties and
cares of life; none of these hearts any longer beat anxiously and
uneasily, and their former owners feel happy now they have got rid of
the troublesome guest."

"But what do they now carry in their breasts instead?" asked Peter,
whose head was nearly swimming at what he beheld.

"_This_," replied he, taking out of a small drawer, and presenting to
him--a heart of stone.

"Indeed!" said Peter, who could not prevent a cold shuddering coming
over him. "A heart of marble? But, tell me, Mr. Michel, such a heart
must be very cold in one's breast."

"True, but very agreeably cool. Why should a heart be warm? For in
winter its warmth is of little use, and good strong Kirschwasser does
more than a warm heart, and in summer when all is hot and sultry, you
can't think how cooling such a heart is. And, as before said, such a
heart feels neither anxiety nor terror, neither foolish compassion nor
other grief."

"And that is all you can offer me," asked Peter, indignantly, "I looked
for money and you are going to give me a stone."

"Well! an hundred thousand florins, methinks, would suffice you for the
present. If you employ it properly, you may soon make it a million."

"An hundred thousand!" exclaimed the poor coal-burner, joyfully.
"Well, don't beat so vehemently in my bosom, we shall soon have done
with one another. Agreed, Michel, give me the stone, and the money,
and the alarum you may take out of its case."

"I always thought you were a reasonable fellow," replied Michel, with a
friendly smile; "come, let us drink another glass, and then I will pay
you the money."

They went back to the room and sat down again to the wine, drinking one
glass after another till Peter fell into a profound sleep.

He was awakened by the cheerful blast of a post-boy's bugle, and found
himself sitting in a handsome carriage, driving along on a wide road.
On putting his head out he saw in the airy distance the Schwarzwald
lying behind him. At first he could scarcely believe that it was his
own self sitting in the carriage, for even his clothes were different
from those he had worn the day before; but still he had such a distinct
recollection that, giving up at length all these reflections, he
exclaimed, "I am Peter and no other, that is certain."

He was astonished that he could n