THE STORY OF THE WIND [3]
so that I could get in at other places besides the door.
'Where the chimney smokes, the meal is being cooked,' says the
proverb; but here a chimney smoked that devoured all the meals for the
sake of gold. I blew round the courtyard," said the Wind, "like a
watchman blowing his home, but no watchman was there. I twirled the
weather-cock round on the summit of the tower, and it creaked like the
snoring of a warder, but no warder was there; nothing but mice and
rats. Poverty laid the table-cloth; poverty sat in the wardrobe and in
the larder. The door fell off its hinges, cracks and fissures made
their appearance everywhere; so that I could go in and out at
pleasure, and that is how I know all about it. Amid smoke and ashes,
sorrow, and sleepless nights, the hair and beard of the master of
the house turned gray, and deep furrows showed themselves around his
temples; his skin turned pale and yellow, while his eyes still
looked eagerly for gold, the longed-for gold, and the result of his
labor was debt instead of gain. I blew the smoke and ashes into his
face and beard; I moaned through the broken window-panes, and the
yawning clefts in the walls; I blew into the chests and drawers
belonging to his daughters, wherein lay the clothes that had become
faded and threadbare, from being worn over and over again. Such a song
had not been sung, at the children's cradle as I sung now. The
lordly life had changed to a life of penury. I was the only one who
rejoiced aloud in that castle," said the Wind. "At last I snowed
them up, and they say snow keeps people warm. It was good for them,
for they had no wood, and the forest, from which they might have
obtained it, had been cut down. The frost was very bitter, and I
rushed through loop-holes and passages, over gables and roofs with
keen and cutting swiftness. The three high-born daughters were lying
in bed because of the cold, and their father crouching beneath his
leather coverlet. Nothing to eat, nothing to burn, no fire on the
hearth! Here was a life for high-born people! 'Give it up, give it
up!' But my Lord Daa would not do that. 'After winter, spring will
come,' he said, 'after want, good times. We must not lose patience, we
must learn to wait. Now my horses and lands are all mortgaged, it is
indeed high time; but gold will come at last- at Easter.'
"I heard him as he thus spoke; he was looking at a spider's web,
and he continued, 'Thou cunning little weaver, thou dost teach me
perseverance. Let any one tear thy web, and thou wilt begin again
and repair it. Let it be entirely destroyed, thou wilt resolutely
begin to make another till it is completed. So ought we to do, if we
wish to succeed at last.'
"It was the morning of Easter-day. The bells sounded from the
neighboring church, and the sun seemed to rejoice in the sky. The
master of the castle had watched through the night, in feverish
excitement, and had been melting and cooling, distilling and mixing. I
heard him sighing like a soul in despair; I heard him praying, and I
noticed how he held his breath. The lamp burnt out, but he did not
observe it. I blew up the fire in the coals on the hearth, and it
threw a red glow on his ghastly white face, lighting it up with a
glare, while his sunken eyes looked out wildly from their cavernous
depths, and appeared to grow larger and more prominent, as if they
would burst from their sockets. 'Look at the alchymic glass,' he
cried; 'something glows in the crucible, pure and heavy.' He lifted it
with a trembling hand, and exclaimed in a voice of agitation, 'Gold!
gold!' He was quite giddy, I could have blown him down," said the
Wind; "but I only fanned the glowing coals, and accompanied him
through the door to the room where his daughter sat shivering. His
coat was powdered with ashes, and there were ashes in his beard and in
his tangled hair. He stood erect, and held high in the air the brittle
glass that contained his costly treasure. 'Found! found! Gold!
gold!'
'Where the chimney smokes, the meal is being cooked,' says the
proverb; but here a chimney smoked that devoured all the meals for the
sake of gold. I blew round the courtyard," said the Wind, "like a
watchman blowing his home, but no watchman was there. I twirled the
weather-cock round on the summit of the tower, and it creaked like the
snoring of a warder, but no warder was there; nothing but mice and
rats. Poverty laid the table-cloth; poverty sat in the wardrobe and in
the larder. The door fell off its hinges, cracks and fissures made
their appearance everywhere; so that I could go in and out at
pleasure, and that is how I know all about it. Amid smoke and ashes,
sorrow, and sleepless nights, the hair and beard of the master of
the house turned gray, and deep furrows showed themselves around his
temples; his skin turned pale and yellow, while his eyes still
looked eagerly for gold, the longed-for gold, and the result of his
labor was debt instead of gain. I blew the smoke and ashes into his
face and beard; I moaned through the broken window-panes, and the
yawning clefts in the walls; I blew into the chests and drawers
belonging to his daughters, wherein lay the clothes that had become
faded and threadbare, from being worn over and over again. Such a song
had not been sung, at the children's cradle as I sung now. The
lordly life had changed to a life of penury. I was the only one who
rejoiced aloud in that castle," said the Wind. "At last I snowed
them up, and they say snow keeps people warm. It was good for them,
for they had no wood, and the forest, from which they might have
obtained it, had been cut down. The frost was very bitter, and I
rushed through loop-holes and passages, over gables and roofs with
keen and cutting swiftness. The three high-born daughters were lying
in bed because of the cold, and their father crouching beneath his
leather coverlet. Nothing to eat, nothing to burn, no fire on the
hearth! Here was a life for high-born people! 'Give it up, give it
up!' But my Lord Daa would not do that. 'After winter, spring will
come,' he said, 'after want, good times. We must not lose patience, we
must learn to wait. Now my horses and lands are all mortgaged, it is
indeed high time; but gold will come at last- at Easter.'
"I heard him as he thus spoke; he was looking at a spider's web,
and he continued, 'Thou cunning little weaver, thou dost teach me
perseverance. Let any one tear thy web, and thou wilt begin again
and repair it. Let it be entirely destroyed, thou wilt resolutely
begin to make another till it is completed. So ought we to do, if we
wish to succeed at last.'
"It was the morning of Easter-day. The bells sounded from the
neighboring church, and the sun seemed to rejoice in the sky. The
master of the castle had watched through the night, in feverish
excitement, and had been melting and cooling, distilling and mixing. I
heard him sighing like a soul in despair; I heard him praying, and I
noticed how he held his breath. The lamp burnt out, but he did not
observe it. I blew up the fire in the coals on the hearth, and it
threw a red glow on his ghastly white face, lighting it up with a
glare, while his sunken eyes looked out wildly from their cavernous
depths, and appeared to grow larger and more prominent, as if they
would burst from their sockets. 'Look at the alchymic glass,' he
cried; 'something glows in the crucible, pure and heavy.' He lifted it
with a trembling hand, and exclaimed in a voice of agitation, 'Gold!
gold!' He was quite giddy, I could have blown him down," said the
Wind; "but I only fanned the glowing coals, and accompanied him
through the door to the room where his daughter sat shivering. His
coat was powdered with ashes, and there were ashes in his beard and in
his tangled hair. He stood erect, and held high in the air the brittle
glass that contained his costly treasure. 'Found! found! Gold!
gold!'