Prevod

A tailor and a goldsmith were travelling together when one evening, after the sun had sunk behind the mountains, they heard the sound of distant music, which grew clearer and clearer. It was strange music, yet so enchanting that they forgot all their weariness and quickened their pace. The moon had already risen when they reached a hill, where they saw a host of little men and women holding hands and whirling round in a dance with the greatest delight and merriment. As they danced, they sang most sweetly, and this was the music the travellers had heard. In their midst sat an old man, somewhat taller than the rest, who wore a many-coloured coat and had an ice-grey beard flowing down over his chest. The two travellers stood still in wonder and watched the dance. The old man beckoned them to join in, and the little folk readily opened their circle. The goldsmith, who had a hump on his back and was as bold as all hunchbacks, stepped forward. At first the tailor felt a little timid and held back, but when he saw how merry they all were, he took heart and followed. At once the circle closed again, and the little folk went on singing and dancing with the wildest leaps. The old man, meanwhile, took a broad knife that hung from his belt and whetted it; when it was sharp enough, he looked round for the strangers. They grew frightened, but had little time to think, for the old man seized the goldsmith and, with the greatest speed, shaved off every hair of his head and beard. Then he did the same to the tailor. Their fear vanished, however, when, his work done, the old man gave each of them a friendly pat on the shoulder, as though to say they had done well to submit so willingly and without resistance. He pointed to a heap of coals lying nearby and motioned to them to fill their pockets with them. Both obeyed, though they had no idea what use the coals would be to them, and then went on their way to seek a lodging for the night. When they reached the valley, the bell of the neighbouring monastery struck twelve. In an instant the singing ceased, everything vanished, and the hill lay deserted in the moonlight.

The two travellers found an inn and lay down on a bed of straw, covering themselves with their coats, but in their weariness they forgot to take out the coals first. A heavy weight pressing on their limbs woke them earlier than usual. They reached into their pockets and could scarcely believe their eyes when they saw that they were filled not with coals, but with pure gold. The hair on their heads and their beards had also, happily, grown back as thick as ever. They were now rich men, but the goldsmith, who in keeping with his greedy nature had filled his pockets more generously, had twice as much as the tailor. A greedy man, however much he has, always wants more, and the goldsmith proposed that they stay another day and go out again that evening to fetch still greater treasures from the old man on the hill. The tailor would have none of it. "I have enough and am content," he said. "Now I shall become a master tailor, marry my pleasing object"—as he called his sweetheart—"and be a happy man." Still, to oblige his companion, he agreed to stay another day. That evening the goldsmith slung a couple of extra bags over his shoulder so that he could carry away as much as possible, and set off for the hill. As on the night before, he found the little folk singing and dancing. The old man shaved him smooth once more and motioned to him to take some coals. He lost no time in stuffing his pockets and bags with all they would hold, returned to the inn in perfect bliss, and covered himself with his coat. "Even if the gold weighs heavily on me," he said, "I shall bear it well enough," and at last he fell asleep, sweetly anticipating that he would wake a very wealthy man. When he opened his eyes, he rose quickly to examine his pockets, but how astonished he was when he drew out nothing but black coals, no matter how often he reached inside. "At least I still have the gold I gained the night before," he thought, and went to fetch it. But what a fright he had when he saw that it, too, had turned back into coal. He struck his forehead with his soot-blackened hand and felt that his whole head was as bald and smooth as his chin. But his misfortunes were not yet over: only now did he notice that, besides the hump on his back, a second one just as large had grown on his chest. Then he recognised the punishment for his greed and began to weep aloud. The kind tailor, awakened by his cries, comforted the unfortunate man as best he could and said, "You have been my companion on the road; you shall stay with me and share my treasure." He kept his word, but the poor goldsmith had to carry both humps for the rest of his life and cover his bald head with a cap.