<h2>CHAPTER II<br/> <small>DER STOCK IM EISEN</small></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">That</span> evening, after a hearty dinner, the
children called for the story of Der Stock im
Eisen. And so Herr Müller began:</p>
<p>"Many hundreds of years ago, in the old
square known as the Horsemarket, lived
Vienna's most skilful master-locksmith, Herr
Erhanrd Marbacher. Next door to him, stood
a baker-shop owned by the Widow Mux. The
widow and Herr Marbacher were good neighbors,
and were fond of chatting together outside
the doors of their homes, as the evening
came on; Herr Marbacher smoking his long,
quaintly-painted pipe, and the Widow Mux relating
the sprightly anecdotes of the day.</p>
<p>"But, one evening, Herr Marbacher found<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</SPAN></span>
the widow in great distress; as she usually wore
a merry smile upon her jolly face this change in
temperament greatly affected the spirits of the
locksmith, and he demanded the cause of her
unhappiness. With tears in her eyes, the widow
confided to her neighbor the dreadful fact that
her younger son, Martin, a worthless, idle fellow,
had refused to do any work about the shop,
and had even used harsh words.</p>
<p>"'Sometimes it happens,' suggested the
master-locksmith, 'that a lad does not take to
his forced employment; it may be that Martin
is not cut out for a baker; let me have a hand
with him; perhaps he will make a first-rate
locksmith.'</p>
<p>"'A locksmith!' exclaimed the widow in
astonishment. 'How can he become a locksmith,
with its attendant hard work, when he
will not even run errands for the baker-shop!
No, Herr Marbacher, you are very kind to suggest
it, and try to help me out of my trouble,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</SPAN></span>
but Martin would never consent to become a
locksmith's apprentice. He is downright lazy.'</p>
<p>"'Well, you might let me have a trial with
him,' said the locksmith; 'I am loved by all my
workmen, yet they fear me, too; they do good
work under my direction, and I am proud of
my apprentices. Martin, I am certain, would
also obey me.'</p>
<p>"'Well, have your way, good neighbor,' replied
the widow, 'I can only hope for the best.'</p>
<p>"Evidently Herr Marbacher knew human
nature better than the widow, for Martin was
delighted with the prospect of becoming an
apprentice-locksmith, with the hope of earning
the degree of master-locksmith, like Herr Marbacher,
and he worked hard and long to please
his master. His mother was overjoyed at the
change in the lad, and Herr Marbacher himself
was very well pleased.</p>
<p>"Now, it chanced that some little time after
Martin's apprenticeship, Herr Marbacher<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</SPAN></span>
handed him a tin pail and directed him to a
certain spot on the edge of the forest, without
the city walls, where he should gather clay with
which to mould a certain form, for which he
had had an order. As the commission was a
particular one, and somewhat out of the ordinary,
it required a peculiar sort of clay which
was only to be found in this particular spot.</p>
<p>"With light heart, and whistling a merry
tune, Martin, swinging his tin pail, set out upon
his errand. The day was perfect; Spring was
just beginning; the trees were clothed in their
fresh greenness, light clouds flitted across a
marvelously blue sky, the birds twittered noisily
in the treetops and Martin caught the Spring
fever; he fairly bounded over the green fields,
and reached the forest in a wonderfully short
time.</p>
<p>"Having filled his pail, he started homewards.
But, instead of keeping to the path by
which he had come, he crossed through the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</SPAN></span>
meadows, his heart as light as ever. Suddenly
he espied through the trees figures of men or
boys; then voices came to his ears; he stopped
and listened. Boy-like, he was unable to resist
the temptation—the lure of the Spring—so
he changed his course and made toward the
bowlers, his old-time cronies, who were engaged
in their old-time sport. Slower moved his feet,—his
conscience prompted him in vain—he
forgot the admonition of his master not to loiter
on the way, for fear the city gates would be shut
at the ringing of the curfew; he forgot all
about the time of day, and that it was now well
on toward evening. The fever of the Spring
had gotten into his veins; Martin paused, set
down his bucket of clay, and, picking up a bowl,
joined in the sport of his comrades.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i045.jpg" width-obs="367" height-obs="500" alt="boy standing in frontof man" /> <div class="caption">"'CHEER UP, MY LAD,' SAID THE STRANGER."</div>
</div>
<p>"Suddenly the curfew bell reached his ears;
he recalled his errand, the warning of his master,
and his heart stopped still in fright. He
dropped the bowl in his hands, grasped his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</SPAN></span>
bucket of clay, and ran with beating heart
toward the city gate, but he was too late; the
gate was closed and the gate-keeper either
would not or could not hear his call.</p>
<p>"Fear now seized Martin, in very truth.
The woods about the city were infested with
robbers and dangerous men; there was no way
in which to protect himself; yet he had nothing
about him which any one would care to have,
and that thought gave him some comfort. As
he was planning how he might get within the
walls, a tall man dressed in scarlet feathered
cap and a long black velvet cloak upon his
shoulders, stood before him.</p>
<p>"'Cheer up, my lad,' said the stranger.
'What is the use of crying?'</p>
<p>"'But I am locked out for the night,' replied
Martin.</p>
<p>"'That is nothing to fret about,' answered
the tall man. 'Here is some gold. Take it, it
will open the gate for you.'</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"'Oh, thank you,' said Martin, overjoyed.
Then he hesitated. 'But I shall never be able
to repay you,' he added. 'I have never seen so
much gold.'</p>
<p>"'Oh, do not fret yourself about repaying
me,' answered the stranger. 'I have plenty of
gold, and do not need the little I have given
you. Still, if you are really anxious to repay
me, you might give me your soul when you have
finished with it.'</p>
<p>"'My soul?' cried the boy aghast. 'I
can't give it to you. One cannot sell his
soul?'</p>
<p>"'Oh, yes,' replied the malicious stranger,
smiling grimly, 'many people do sell their
souls; but you need not give it me until you are
dead.'</p>
<p>"'Much good would it do you then,' replied
Martin; 'I cannot see what you would want
with it after I am dead?'</p>
<p>"'That is the bargain,' retorted the tall man.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</SPAN></span>
And he made as if to move away and leave
Martin to his fate.</p>
<p>"'Oh, very well,' said Martin, fearing to
throw away this chance for deliverance. 'I
will take your gold, and you may have my soul
when I have finished with it; the bargain is
made.'</p>
<p>"'And I shall be lenient with you,' continued
the stranger. 'I will give you a chance to redeem
your soul.'</p>
<p>"'You will?' exclaimed Martin in delight.
'And how?'</p>
<p>"'Only this, if you forget to attend divine
service even once, during all the rest of your
days, then shall I claim my bargain. Now, am
I not fair?'</p>
<p>"Martin was very glad to be released, even
with this proviso, and laughed as he moved
away, for Martin had been brought up religiously
by a pious mother, and he knew he should
not forget his Sabbath duty.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"As the stranger had said, the gold gained
entrance for Martin Mux through the closed
city gate, and he straightway made his way to
his room and to bed before his master should
discover his absence.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p>"Some days later, as the apprentices were
hard at work in the shop under the scrutinizing
eye of Herr Marbacher, a tall man in a black
velvet cloak and a red plumed cap, stood in the
doorway. Martin recognized his erstwhile
friend and feared he knew not what. But the
stranger had come to order an iron hoop with
padlock so intricate that it could not be unlocked.</p>
<p>"Herr Marbacher hesitated; the order was
certainly unusual, and even he, the master-locksmith
of Vienna, was uncertain whether he could
accomplish such a commission. But, seeing
Marbacher's hesitation, the stranger cast his
glance about the shop full of young apprentices,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</SPAN></span>
and fixing his regard upon Martin, he said, in
a loud voice:</p>
<p>"'Among all these workmen, is there not one
who can make the lock?'</p>
<p>"Whether impelled by fear, or feeling that
having assisted him once, the devil would assist
him yet a second time, Martin spoke out,</p>
<p>"'I will do it.'</p>
<p>"All eyes turned toward the young apprentice.</p>
<p>"'You?' cried Marbacher, and he laughed
very loud and very long, so excellent did he
consider the joke. 'You? You are my very
youngest apprentice.'</p>
<p>"'Let him try,' suggested the stranger
warily, fearing the master would deny Martin
the privilege. 'Who knows what he may be
able to accomplish?'</p>
<p>"And so it was agreed.</p>
<p>"Martin worked all that day until the evening
shadows compelled him to quit his work.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</SPAN></span>
He racked his brain; he thought and thought;
yet no lock could he imagine which could not
be unlocked. He carried his paper and pencil
to his room with him, thinking that in the stillness
of the night he might think of some design.
But, although he worked conscientiously, no
ideas came to him, and he fell asleep. With
visions of locks and bolts and bars in his head,
it was no wonder that Martin dreamed of robbers'
castles and dungeons and locks and bolts.
He dreamed about a mighty robber in a fortress-castle;
he was a prisoner there, he, Martin;
but what his crime he did not know. He
rushed toward the door to make his escape; it
was locked; he tried to undo it, but in vain;
then he looked about him, and the room seemed
filled with padlocks, some small, some large,
some handsomely wrought, some very simple;
but among them he found one that looked like
a huge spider. It interested him so much that
he took out his pencil and mechanically reproduced<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</SPAN></span>
it; then he felt himself sinking, sinking,
down, down. With a start he awoke, he had
tossed himself out of bed and lay sprawling
upon the floor of his room. Rather piqued,
Martin picked himself up and jumped into bed.
But there upon his pillow lay a drawing. He
examined it by the feeble rays of the candle,
which was still burning; it was the design of
the spider lock he had seen in the robber's castle
in his dream.</p>
<p>"Impatient for the morning, Martin was at
his bench early working upon the design of the
lock; and when the end of the sixth day arrived,
the time appointed by the stranger for
the delivery of the work, Martin had the lock
completed. Evidently it proved entirely satisfactory
to the stranger, for he paid Marbacher
the money agreed upon, and left the
shop.</p>
<p>"At the corner of the square he stopped before
the larch-tree, bound the iron hoop about<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</SPAN></span>
the tree, locked it, put the key in his pocket and
disappeared.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p>"Time passed. Martin, for some inexplicable
reason, had left Vienna and gone to the
city of Nuremburg where he continued in his
profession. But, one day, he heard that the
Burgomaster of Vienna had offered the title of
master-locksmith to the one who would make
a key which would unlock the iron hoop about
the larch-tree. It was a small task for Martin
to make a duplicate of the key he had once
made, and with it in his pocket he travelled to
Vienna and presented it to the Burgomaster.</p>
<p>"It was a great holiday when the hoop was
to be unbound. Dressed in robes of state,
glistening all over with gold thread and medals,
the Burgomaster and the City Fathers gathered
in the Horsemarket, where stood the Stock im
Eisen; the lock was unfastened and Martin
was created a master-locksmith, much to the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</SPAN></span>
joy of his mother and to the overwhelming
pride of his former master, Herr Marbacher.</p>
<p>"But, although Martin Mux had now acquired
fortune and fame, he was far from being
happy. His bargain with the devil haunted
him; day and night it was with him, for he
feared Sunday morning might come and he
would forget to attend Mass. And then he
would be irretrievably lost. What would
he not give to be able to recall his bargain.
He enjoyed no peace of mind; at his bench
he thought ever of the dreaded day when he
must pay; he could no longer work; he must
not think; he joined his old-time idle companions;
hour after hour was spent in gambling;
night after night he frittered his wealth
away; the more he lost the more desperate he
became; poor Martin Mux was paying dearly
for his game of bowls and his disobedience to
his master.</p>
<p>"One Saturday evening Martin joined his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</SPAN></span>
comrades quite early, but luck had deserted
him; he lost and lost. One by one the other
habitués of the place had gone until there was
no one left but Martin and his few friends at
the table with him. He paid no heed to time;
all he thought of was to regain some of his lost
money. Suddenly, as had happened some years
before, out on the bowling green, Martin heard
the deep tones of a bell. But this was not the
curfew; it was the church bell calling to Mass.</p>
<p>"Martin looked up from his cards and saw
the sun shining brightly through the curtained
windows. His heart stood still with fright, for
his bargain flashed through his mind; he threw
down the cards and fled into the street, like a
mad man.</p>
<p>"On and on he ran. He brushed past a tall
man, but heeding him not, Martin rushed on.</p>
<p>"'Hurry, my friend,' called out the stranger,
whom he had jostled. 'Hurry, the church bell
has rung; the bargain is paid.'</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"A malicious laugh rang in Martin's ear.
He turned and saw the evil-eyed stranger, him
of the black velvet cloak and red-plumed cap.</p>
<p>"Mad with fear, Martin bounded up the
church steps. He entered the house of worship;
but the stranger had said truly it was too late;
the bargain was due for the service was ending.
Martin Mux turned to leave the church, but at
the threshold he fell dead; the stranger had
claimed his soul.</p>
<p>"Since that time it has been the custom for
every locksmith apprentice, whether he comes
into Vienna to seek his fortunes, or whether he
goes out from Vienna to other parts, to drive
a nail into the stump of the larch-tree and offer
up a prayer for the peace of Martin Mux's
soul. That is why the old tree is so studded
with nails."</p>
<p>"What a dreadful bargain for Martin to
make!" said Teresa fearfully. "How could
he have given his soul away?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"He chose the easier way out of a small
difficulty, and he paid dearly for it," replied
Herr Müller. "It is not always the easiest
way which is the wisest, after all."</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />