. So then you can
prescribe salves and medicines, and when he recovers he'll think you
have cured him. But if I stand at the head of the sick man's bed, you
will know that he has to die. In that case you must look grave and say
that he is beyond help. When he dies people will say how wise you were
to know beforehand."

She gave him further instructions and then, after bidding her godchild
and its mother a kind farewell, she left.

Time went by and Martin's fame as a great physician spread far and wide.
Wherever Godmother Death caused sickness, there Martin went and made
marvelous cures. Dukes and princes heard of him and sent for him. When
he rubbed them with salve or gave them a dose or two of bitter medicine
and they recovered, they felt so grateful to him that they gave him
anything he asked and often more than he asked.

He always remembered Death's warning not to treat a sick man if she
stood at his head. Once, however, he disobeyed. He was called to
prescribe to a duke of enormous wealth. When he entered the room he saw
Death standing at the duke's head.

"Can you cure him?" they asked Martin.

"I can't promise," Martin said, "but I'll do what I can."

He had the servants turn the duke's bed around until the foot instead
of the head was in front of Death. The duke recovered and rewarded
Martin richly.

But Death when next she met Martin reproved him:

"My friend, don't try that trick on me again. Besides, it is not a real
cure. The duke's time has come; he must go to his appointed place; and
it is my duty to conduct him thither. You think you have saved him from
me and he thinks so, but you are both mistaken. All you have given him
is a moment's respite."

The years went by and Martin grew old. His hair whitened and his muscles
stiffened. The infirmities of age came upon him and life was no longer a
joy.

"Dear Godmother Death," he cried, "I am old and tired! Take me!"

But Death shook her head.

"No, my friend, I can't take you yet. You lengthened the candle of your
life and now you must wait until it burns down."

At last one day as he was riding home after visiting a sick man, Death
climbed into the carriage with him. She talked with him of old times and
they laughed together. Then jokingly she brushed his chin with a green
branch. Instantly Martin's eyes grew heavy. His head slipped lower and
lower and soon he fell asleep on Death's lap.

"He's dead," the people said, when they looked in the