tunately for Simon, he was a man of violent passions, and on one
occasion his fury betrayed him into blasphemous exclamations. Sadly
beside himself, he swore, with a most fearful oath, that he was ready
and willing to make over body and soul to the devil, or even to his old
gossip the fiddler, provided either of them would undertake to restore
to him the mass of wealth that had so unaccountably escaped from him.

"There is an old proverb that runs--_'Give the devil your little finger,
and he will take your whole hand.'_ And the truth of this saying Simon
was now about to experience; for he had scarcely brought his impious
words to a close, before the fiddler popped into his presence, too
willing to enter into any arrangement which the reckless farmer was
silly enough to propose. 'Here I am, gossip!' said the cunning little
rascal with well-assumed affability, 'and ready to do your will. Not
that I shall ask your body and soul. I am not so greedy. Bequeath me
your head at your death, you shall have all you ask, and I'll be
satisfied.'

"'Go to the devil, you bandy-legged monster!' screamed Michael in his
fury, poking his lamp at the same time under the Dwarf's beard, so that
the vapoury phantom was nigh being in a blaze.

"'Don't put yourself out, Mike; don't put yourself out!' said Klaus
patronizingly, seating himself upon a chest, and then tuning his fiddle.
'Getting into a passion won't bring the shiners back! What do you say,
gossip, to a tune? Will you dance if I play? I have improved
wonderfully, I can tell you, since I left this half-and-half sort of a
world. Nobody dances now to my touch who doesn't praise it to the skies.
You can't care much for dancing at your time of life, I know; and yet,
if you could get a ducat for every step, and one or two for every hop,
you would put your best foot forward, and try to do something any how--
wouldn't you?'

"'What, what, what? What's that you say?' cried Simon, squeezing his
empty money-bags. 'A ducat for every step! two for a hop! _Kremnitz_ or
_Dutch_, my dear old friend?'

"'_Kremnitz_, old gentleman, and full weight too!' replied the Dwarf.
'But,' added the little monster, 'about the head, Mike--what do you say,
am I to get it?'"

Simon put his hand to his hair--involuntarily.

"'Oh! I am no Turk, gossip!' said the fiddler. 'I sha'n't scalp you.
I'll gild every hair that you have on your crown; but your pate I must
have, or else I can say nothing about the duc