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Updated: May 17, 2025
Without knowing how he had entered, he found himself in a dark room where three men, dressed in black like his guide, were playing at strajak by no other light than their glittering eyes. On the table were piles of gold, and a jug from which each one drank in his turn. "Brothers," said the black man, "I bring you friend Swanda, whom you have long known by reputation.
I thought to please you on this feast-day by giving you a little music." "A good idea!" said one of the players. Then, taking the jug, he handed it to Swanda, saying, "Here, piper, drink and play." Swanda had some scruples; but, after all, it is impossible to have charcoal without putting your finger into the ashes. The wine, though rather warm, was not bad.
As soon as Swanda finished an air they handed him the jug, from which he never failed to drink deeply, and threw handfuls of gold into his hat. "Good luck, brother!" he repeated, astounded at his fortune "good luck!" The feast lasted a long time.
He had not recovered from the first shudder when suddenly there appeared before him a man dressed in black, with pale and hollow cheeks, and eyes that glittered like carbuncles. "Where are you going so late, friend Piper?" asked he, in a soft voice. "To Drazic, Mr. Black Coat," answered the intrepid Swanda. "Would you like to earn something by your music?"
"I am tired of blowing," returned Swanda. "I have some silver in my pocket, and wish to amuse myself." "Who talks to you of silver? It is with gold that we pay." Saying this, the stranger flashed before his eyes a handful of shining ducats. The piper was the son of a thrifty mother; he knew not how to resist such an invitation, and followed the black man and his gold.
He rummaged his pockets and turned his hat inside out, but all in vain; there was not even a kreutzer! "My friend," said the peasant, making the sign of the cross, "God has punished you by giving you the devil for a partner; you love cards too well." "You are right," said Swanda, trembling; "I will never touch them again in my life."
Swanda, after blowing his pipe till midnight and earning twenty zwanzigers, determined to amuse himself on his own account. Neither prayers nor promises could persuade him to go on with his music; he was determined to drink his fill and to shuffle the cards at his ease; but, for the first time in his life, he found no one to play with him.
On reaching a cross-road Swanda raised his eyes by chance, and stopped, mute and motionless. A flock of ravens were croaking over his head, and in front of him rose four posts, standing like pillars, and connected at the top by cross-beams, from each of which swung a half-devoured corpse. It was a robbers' gallows, a spectacle by no means amusing to a less stoical spirit than that of Swanda.
Seated on a corner of the gallows, he was blowing with all his might, while the corpses of the robbers danced in the wind to his music. "Halloo, comrade!" cried the peasant. "How long have you been playing the cuckoo up there?" Swanda started, dropped his pipe, opened his eyes, and glided, bewildered, down the gallows. His first thought, however, was for his ducats.
Swanda was not the man to quit the inn so long as he had a kreutzer in his pocket, and on that day he had many of them. By dint of talking, laughing, and drinking he took one of those fixed ideas which are not uncommon among those who look too often in the bottom of their glass, and determined to play at any price; but all his neighbors refused his challenge.
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