Prevod

One day an old man and his wife were sitting outside a poor little house, resting a while from their work. All at once a splendid carriage drawn by four black horses came driving up, and a richly dressed gentleman stepped out. The peasant rose, went up to the gentleman, and asked what he wished and how he might serve him. The stranger held out his hand to the old man and said, "All I wish is to enjoy a country meal for once. Prepare some potatoes for me just as you usually eat them, and I shall sit down at your table and eat them with pleasure." The peasant smiled and said, "You must be a count or a prince, or even a duke. Grand gentlemen sometimes take such fancies, but your wish shall be granted." His wife went into the kitchen and began washing and grating potatoes to make the sort of dumplings country people eat. While she was at work, the peasant said to the stranger, "Come into my garden with me in the meantime. I still have some work to do there." He had dug holes in the garden and was now going to plant trees. "Have you no children," asked the stranger, "who could help you with your work?" "No," answered the peasant. "I did have a son," he added, "but he went out into the wide world a long time ago. He was a wayward boy, clever and cunning, but he would learn nothing and was forever playing wicked tricks. At last he ran away, and I have heard nothing of him since." The old man took a young tree, set it in a hole, and drove a stake in beside it. When he had shoveled in the earth and stamped it down, he tied the trunk firmly to the stake with straw rope at the bottom, the top, and the middle. "But tell me," said the gentleman, "why do you not tie that crooked, gnarled tree in the corner, which bends almost to the ground, to a stake as well, so that it will grow straight?" The old man smiled and said, "Sir, you speak as well as you know how. It is plain that you have never had much to do with gardening. That tree is old and twisted; no one can straighten it now. Trees must be trained while they are young." "It is just like your son," said the stranger. "Had you trained him while he was young, he would not have run away. By now he too will have grown hard and gnarled." "Indeed," answered the old man, "it is a long time since he went away. He will have changed." "Would you still recognize him if he stood before you?" asked the stranger. "Hardly by his face," answered the peasant, "but he has a mark on him, a birthmark on his shoulder shaped like a bean." When he had said this, the stranger took off his coat, bared his shoulder, and showed the peasant the bean. "Good Lord!" cried the old man. "You truly are my son!" And love for his child stirred in his heart. "But," he added, "how can you be my son? You have become a grand gentleman and live in wealth and plenty! How did you come by it all?" "Ah, Father," replied the son, "the young tree was never tied to a stake, and it grew crooked. Now it is too old; it will never be straight again. How did I come by all this? I became a thief. But do not be alarmed: I am a master thief. Neither lock nor bolt can keep me out. Whatever I desire is mine. Do not imagine that I steal like a common thief. I take only from the abundance of the rich. Poor people are safe from me: I would sooner give them something than take anything from them. Nor do I touch anything I can get without effort, cunning, and skill." "Ah, my son," said his father, "I do not like it all the same. A thief is still a thief, and I tell you, this will come to no good." He took him to his mother, and when she heard that he was her son, she wept for joy; but when he told her that he had become a master thief, the tears ran in two streams down her face. At last she said, "Even if he has become a thief, he is still my son, and my eyes have seen him once more."

They sat down at the table, and once again he ate with his parents the humble fare he had not tasted for so long. His father said, "If our lord, the count over at the castle, learns who you are and what you do, he will not take you in his arms and rock you as he did when he held you at the font, but will have you swinging from the gallows rope." "Have no fear, Father. He will do me no harm, for I know my trade. I shall go and see him myself this very day." As evening drew near, the master thief got into his carriage and drove to the castle. The count received him courteously, taking him for a nobleman. But when the stranger revealed who he was, the count turned pale and was silent for a while. At last he said, "You are my godson, so I shall temper justice with mercy and deal leniently with you. Since you boast of being a master thief, I shall put your skill to the test. But if you fail, you must wed the ropemaker's daughter, and the croaking of ravens shall be your wedding music." "My lord count," answered the master thief, "devise three feats as difficult as you please, and if I cannot accomplish them, do with me as you will." The count thought for a few moments, then said, "Very well. First, you must steal my own riding horse from the stable. Second, when my wife and I are asleep, you must take the sheet from beneath us without our noticing, and my wife's wedding ring from her finger as well. Third and last, you must steal the parson and the sexton out of the church. Remember it all carefully, for your neck is at stake."

The master thief went to the nearest town. There he bought an old peasant woman's clothes and put them on. Then he stained his face brown and painted wrinkles on it, so that no one could have recognized him. Finally, he filled a little cask with old Hungarian wine into which he had mixed a powerful sleeping draught. He put the cask in a carrying basket, hoisted it onto his back, and made his way to the count's castle with slow, unsteady steps. It was already dark when he arrived. He sat down on a stone in the courtyard, began coughing like an old woman with a bad chest, and rubbed his hands as though he were cold. Soldiers were lying around a fire outside the stable door. One of them noticed the woman and called to her, "Come closer, old mother, and warm yourself by our fire. You have nowhere to sleep, I daresay, and must take shelter where you find it." The old woman came tottering over, asked them to lift the basket off her back, and sat down beside them at the fire. "What have you got in that little cask, you old baggage?" one of them asked. "A good drop of wine," she answered. "I make my living by selling it, and for money and a kind word I shall gladly give you a glass." "Let's have it, then," said the soldier, and when he had tasted a glass, he cried, "If the wine is good, I would rather have another glass!" He had it filled again, and the others followed his example. "Ho there, comrades!" one of them called to those sitting in the stable. "Here is an old mother with wine as old as she is. Have a drop too; it will warm your bellies better than our fire." The old woman carried her cask into the stable. One man was sitting on the count's saddled horse, another held its bridle, and a third had hold of its tail. She poured out as much as they wanted until the spring ran dry. Before long, the bridle slipped from one man's hand, and he sank to the ground and began to snore. Another let go of the tail, lay down, and snored still louder. The man in the saddle stayed where he was, but his head drooped almost to the horse's neck, and he slept, puffing through his mouth like a blacksmith's bellows. The soldiers outside had long since fallen asleep and lay motionless on the ground as though made of stone.

When the master thief saw that his plan had succeeded, he put a rope in one man's hand instead of the bridle, and a wisp of straw in the hand of the man who had held the tail. But what was he to do with the one sitting on the horse's back? He did not want to throw him off, for he might wake and raise the alarm. But he knew just what to do. He unbuckled the girth, fastened a couple of ropes that hung from rings in the wall to the saddle, and hauled the sleeping rider up, saddle and all. Then he wound the ropes around a post and tied them fast. He soon unfastened the horse's chain, but if he had ridden over the stone paving of the courtyard, the noise would have been heard in the castle. So first he wrapped the horse's hooves in old rags, then led it cautiously outside, sprang onto its back, and galloped away.

When day broke, the master thief came galloping to the castle on the stolen horse. The count had just risen and was looking out of the window. "Good morning, my lord count!" he called up to him. "Here is the horse I have safely fetched from the stable. Just look how peacefully your soldiers lie sleeping, and if you care to go into the stable, you will see how comfortable your guards have made themselves." The count could not help laughing, but then he said, "You have succeeded once, but the second time will not go so well. And I warn you: if I meet you as a thief, I shall treat you as a thief." That evening, when the countess went to bed, she tightly clenched the hand that bore her wedding ring, and the count said, "All the doors are locked and bolted. I shall stay awake and wait for the thief, and if he climbs in through the window, I shall shoot him down." But after dark the master thief went out to the gallows, cut down a poor sinner hanging there, and carried him on his back to the castle. There he set a ladder against the bedchamber window, hoisted the dead man onto his shoulders, and began to climb. When he had gone high enough for the dead man's head to appear at the window, the count, lying in wait in his bed, fired a pistol at it. At once the master thief let the poor sinner fall, sprang down the ladder himself, and hid in a corner. The moon lit the night brightly enough for him to see plainly as the count climbed out of the window onto the ladder, came down, and carried the dead man into the garden. There he began digging a hole in which to lay him. "Now," thought the thief, "the right moment has come." He slipped nimbly out of his corner and climbed the ladder straight into the countess's bedchamber. "Dear wife," he began in the count's voice, "the thief is dead, but he was my godson after all, and more of a rogue than a villain. I do not wish to expose him to public disgrace, and I pity his poor parents too. Before daybreak I shall bury him in the garden myself, so that the matter does not become known. Give me the sheet as well, so that I can wrap up the body and bury him like a dog." The countess gave him the sheet. "Do you know," the thief went on, "I feel a sudden fit of generosity. Give me the ring as well. The poor wretch risked his life for it, so he may as well take it to his grave." She did not wish to oppose the count, and although she was reluctant, she drew the ring from her finger and handed it to him. The thief made off with both things and reached home safely before the count had finished his gravedigging in the garden.

What a long face the count pulled when the master thief came the next morning and brought him the sheet and the ring! "Can you work magic?" he asked. "Who fetched you out of the grave where I laid you myself and brought you back to life?" "It was not me you buried," said the thief, "but the poor sinner from the gallows." And he told him in detail how it had all happened. The count was forced to admit that he was a clever and cunning thief. "But you are not finished yet," he added. "You still have the third task to accomplish, and if you fail at that, all the rest will do you no good." The master thief smiled and made no answer.

When night had fallen, he went to the village church with a long sack on his back, a bundle under his arm, and a lantern in his hand. In the sack he had crayfish, and in the bundle short wax candles. He sat down in the churchyard, took out a crayfish, and stuck a little candle on its back. Then he lit the candle, set the crayfish on the ground, and let it crawl away. He took a second one out of the sack and did the same with it, and went on until the last one was out. Then he put on a long black robe like a monk's habit and stuck a gray beard to his chin. When at last he was quite unrecognizable, he took the sack that had held the crayfish, went into the church, and climbed into the pulpit. The church clock was just striking twelve. As the last stroke died away, he cried in a loud, piercing voice, "Hear me, you sinful people! The end of all things has come, and Judgment Day is at hand! Hear me, hear me! Whoever wishes to come to heaven with me must crawl into this sack. I am Peter, who opens and shuts the gates of heaven. Look! Outside in the churchyard the dead are walking about, gathering up their bones. Come, come and crawl into the sack! The world is coming to an end!" His cries rang through the whole village. The parson and the sexton, who lived nearest the church, were the first to hear them, and when they saw the lights wandering about the churchyard, they knew that something unusual was happening and went into the church. They listened to the sermon for a while, then the sexton nudged the parson and said, "It would be no bad thing if we took this opportunity to get to heaven together the easy way, before Judgment Day begins." "Indeed," replied the parson, "those were my thoughts as well. If you are willing, let us be on our way." "Yes," answered the sexton, "but you, sir, must go first. I shall follow." So the parson stepped forward and climbed into the pulpit, where the master thief held the sack open. The parson crawled in first, then the sexton. At once the master thief tied the sack tightly shut, seized it by the gathered end, and dragged it down the pulpit steps. Whenever the two fools' heads bumped against a step, he cried, "Now we are crossing the mountains!" Then he dragged them through the village in the same way, and whenever they passed through a puddle, he cried, "Now we are passing through the wet clouds!" At last, as he dragged them up the castle stairs, he called, "Now we are on the stairway to heaven and shall soon be in the outer court!" When he reached the top, he pushed the sack into the dovecote, and as the doves fluttered about, he said, "Do you hear how the angels rejoice and beat their wings?" Then he slid the bolt shut and went away.

The next morning he went to the count and told him that he had accomplished the third task as well, and had carried the parson and the sexton away from the church. "Where have you left them?" asked the count. "They are lying in a sack up in the dovecote and imagine they are in heaven." The count went up himself and saw that he had told the truth. When he had freed the parson and the sexton from their prison, he said, "You are an arch-thief, and you have won. This time you escape with a whole skin, but see that you leave my country, for if you are ever found here again, you may count on being raised up on the gallows." The arch-thief took leave of his parents and went out into the wide world once more, and no one ever heard of him again.