CHIEF. What’s that new fashion?
OFFICIALS’ IMP. Why, in former times lawyers were in attendance on the judges and deceived people. Now, I’ve arranged for them to do business also apart from the judges. Whoever pays most, is the one to whose business they attend. And they’ll take such trouble over it that they’ll make out a case where there is none! They and the officials between them embroil people far better than we Devils can.
CHIEF. All right. I’ll have a look at them. You may pass on.
The Officials’ Imp goes to the right.
CHIEF to Doorkeeper Let in the last one.
Enter the Peasants’ Imp with the chunk of bread. He bows to the ground.
PEASANTS’ IMP. I can’t live like this any longer! Give me another appointment!
CHIEF. What appointment? What are you jabbering about? Get up and talk sense. Give in your report! How many peasants have you captured this week?
PEASANTS’ IMP crying Not one!
CHIEF. What? Not one! What do you mean? What have you been doing? Where have you been loafing?
PEASANTS’ IMP whimpering I’ve not been loafing; I’ve been straining every nerve all the time, but I can’t do anything! There now, I went and took his last crust from under the very nose of one of them, and, instead of swearing, he wished it might do me good!
CHIEF. What?… What?… What are you mumbling there? Just blow your nose, and then speak sensibly! One can’t make head or tail of what you’re saying.
PEASANTS’ IMP. Why, there was a peasant ploughing; and I knew he had brought only a chunk of bread with him, and had nothing else to eat. I stole his crust. By rights he should have sworn; but what does he do? He says, “Let him who has taken it eat it, and may it do him good!” I’ve brought the chunk of bread away with me. Here it is!
CHIEF. Well, and what of the others?
PEASANTS’ IMP. They’re all alike. I could not manage to take a single one.
CHIEF. How dare you appear before me with empty hands? And as if that were not enough, you must needs bring some stinking crust or other here! Do you mean to mock me? Do you mean to live in Hell and eat the bread of idleness? The others do their best, and work hard! Why, they points to the Imps have each supplied 10,000 or 20,000, or even 200,000. And you come with empty hands, and bring a miserable crust, and begin spinning your yarns. You chatter, but don’t work; and that’s why you’ve lost hold of them. But wait a bit, my friend, I’ll teach you a thing or two!
PEASANTS’ IMP. Before you punish me, listen to what I’ll tell you. It’s all very well for those other Devils, who have to do with gentlefolk, with merchants, or with women. It’s all plain sailing for them! Show a nobleman a coronet, or a fine estate, and you’ve got him, and may lead him where you like. It’s the same with a tradesman. Show him some money and stir up his covetousness, and you may lead him as with a halter. And with the women it’s also plain sailing. Give them finery and sweets — and you may do what you like with them. But as to the peasants — there’s a long row to hoe with them! When he’s at work from morn till night — sometimes even far into the night — and never starts without a thought of God, how’s one to get at him? Master, remove me from these peasants! I’m tired to death of them, and have angered you into the bargain!
CHIEF. You’re humbugging, you idler! It’s no use your talking about the others. They’ve got hold of the merchants, the nobles, and the women, because they knew how to treat them, and invented new traps for them! The official one there — he has made quite a new departure. You must think of something too! You’ve stolen a crust, and brag about it! What a clever thing to do! Surround them with snares, and they’ll get caught in one or other of them. But loafing about as you do, and leaving the way open for them, those peasants of yours have gained strength. They begin not to care about their last crust. If they take to such ways, and teach their women the same, they’ll get quite beyond us! Invent something! Get out of the hole as best you can.
PEASANTS’ IMP. I can’t think how to set about it. Let me off! I can stand it no longer!
CHIEF angrily Can’t stand it! What do you think, then? Am I to do your work for you?
PEASANTS’ IMP. I can’t!
CHIEF. Can’t? Wait a bit! Hollo, there! bring the switches; give him a thrashing.
The Sentinels seize the Imp and whip him.
PEASANTS’ IMP. Oh! Oh! Oh!…
CHIEF. Have you thought of something?
PEASANTS’ IMP. Oh, oh, I can’t!
CHIEF. Give him some more. They whip Well — thought of something?
PEASANTS’ IMP. Yes — yes, I have!
CHIEF. Well, tell us what it is.
PEASANTS’ IMP. I’ve invented a dodge that will bring them all into my grasp, if you’ll only let me take a labourer’s place with that peasant. But I can’t explain what it is beforehand.
CHIEF. All right. Only remember, that if you don’t atone for that crust within three years, I’ll flay you alive!
PEASANTS’ IMP. They’ll all be mine in three years’ time.
CHIEF. All right. When the three years are past, I shall come and see for myself!
Curtain
.
Act III
A barn. Carts loaded with grain. The Imp as a Labourer. He is shovelling grain off the cart, and the Peasant is carrying it away in a measure.
LABOURER. Seven!
PEASANT. How many quarters?
LABOURER looks at the numbers marked on the barn door Twenty-six quarters. And this is the seventh bushel of the twenty-seventh quarter.
PEASANT. It won’t all go in; the barn is nearly full!
LABOURER. Shovel it nice and even.
PEASANT. So I will.
Exit with measure.
LABOURER alone, takes off his cap, his horns appear It will be some time before he returns. I’ll ease my horns a bit. Horns rise And I’ll take my boots off too; I can’t do it when he’s here. Takes his boots off, his hoofs appear. Sits on the threshold It’s the third year now. It’s near the time of reckoning. There’s more corn than there’s room for. Only one more thing left to teach him, and then let the Chief come and see for himself. I’ll have something worth showing him! He’ll forgive me for that crust!
Neighbour approaches. Labourer hides his horns and hoofs.
NEIGHBOUR. Good day to you.
LABOURER. The same to you.
NEIGHBOUR. Where’s your master?
LABOURER. He’s gone to spread the grain more even; it won’t all go in.
NEIGHBOUR. Dear me, what a run of luck your master is having! More than he has room for? We’re all amazed at the harvests your master has had these two years. It’s as if some one had told him what was coming. Last year was a dry season, and he had sown in the bog. Others had no harvest, but your threshing ground was covered with sheaves! This year we’ve a rainy summer, and he’s been sharp enough to sow on the hill. Everybody’s corn has rotted, but you have a splendid harvest. What grain! Ah, what grain!
Takes some grain, weighs it in his hand, and chews it.
PEASANT enters with empty measure How d’ye do, neighbour?
NEIGHBOUR. Good day. I was saying to your man here, how well you managed to guess where to sow your corn. Every one envies you. What heaps, what heaps of corn you have got! You’ll not eat it all in ten years.
PEASANT. It’s all thanks to Nicholas here. Points to Labourer It was his luck. Last year I sent him to plough, and what did he do but plough in the bog. I gave him a scolding, but he persuaded me to sow there. And so I did, and it turned out all for the best! And this year he again guessed right, and sowed on the hill!
NEIGHBOUR. It’s as if he knew what kind of season it would be. Yes, you have got corn enough and no mistake! Silence And I have come to ask you to lend me a sack of rye. Ours is all used up. I’ll return it next year.
PEASANT. All right, you may have it.
LABOURER nudging the Peasant Don’t give it!
PEASANT. No more words about it. Take it.
NEIGHBOUR. Thank you. I’ll just run and fetch a sack.
LABOURER aside He keeps to his old ways … still goes on giving. He doesn’t always obey me. But just wait a bit. He’ll soon stop giving away.
Exit Neighbour.
PEASANT sitting down on the threshold Why should one not give to a good man?
LABOURER. Giving is one thing, getting back another! You know— “It’s a good world to lend in, a good world to spend in, But to get back one’s own, it’s the worst world that’s known.”
That’s what the old folk say.
PEASANT. Don’t worry. We’ve plenty of corn.
LABOURER. Well, what of that?
PEASANT. We’ve enough, not only till next harvest but for two years ahead. What are we to do with it all?
LABOURER. What are we to do with it? I could make such stuff of this corn as would make you rejoice all the days of your life.
PEASANT. Why, what would you make of it?
LABOURER. A kind of drink. Drink, that would give you strength when you
