Hardly by his face, replied the peasant, but he has a mark about him, a birth-mark on his shoulder, that looks like a bean. When he had said that the stranger pulled off his coat, bared his shoulder, and showed the peasant the bean. Good God, cried the old man, you are really my son, and love for his child stirred in his heart. But, he added, how can you be my son, you have become a great lord and live in wealth and luxury. How have you contrived to do that. Ah, father, answered the son, the young tree was bound to no post and has grown crooked. Now it is too old, it will never be straight again. How have I come by all this.
I have become a thief, but do not be alarmed, I am a master-thief.
For me there are neither locks nor bolts, whatsoever I desire is mine. Do not imagine that I steal like a common thief, I only take some of the superfluity of the rich. Poor people are safe, I would rather give to them than take anything from them. It is the same with anything which I can have without trouble, cunning, and dexterity - I never touch it. Alas, my son, said the father, it still does not please me, a thief is still a thief, I tell you it will end badly. He took him to his mother, and when she heard that was her son, she wept for joy, but when he told her that he had become a master-thief, two streams flowed down over her face. At length she said, even if he has become a thief, he is still my son, and my eyes have beheld him once more.
They sat down to table, and once again he ate with his parents the wretched food which he had not eaten for so long. The father said, if our lord, the count up there in the castle, learns who you are, and what trade you follow, he will not take you in his arms and cradle you in them as he did when he held you at the font, but will cause you to swing from a halter. Be easy, father, he will do me no harm, for I understand my trade. I will go to him myself this very day. When evening drew near, the master-thief seated himself in his carriage, and drove to the castle. The count received him civilly, for he took him for a distinguished man. When, however, the stranger made himself known, the count turned pale and was quite silent for some time. At length he said, you are my godson, and on that account mercy shall take the place of justice, and I will deal leniently with you. Since you pride yourself on being a master-thief, I will put your art to the proof, but if you do not stand the test, you must marry the rope-maker's daughter, and the croaking of the raven must be your music on the occasion. Lord count, answered the master-thief, think of three things, as difficult as you like, and if I do not perform your tasks, do with me what you will.
The count reflected for some minutes, and then said, well, then, in the first place, you shall steal the horse I keep for my own riding, out of the stable. In the next, you shall steal the sheet from beneath the bodies of my wife and myself when we are asleep, without our observing it, and the wedding-ring of my wife as well. Thirdly and lastly, you shall steal away out of the church, the parson and clerk. Mark what I am saying, for your life depends on it.
The master-thief went to the nearest town, there he bought the clothes of an old peasant woman, and put them on. Then he stained his face brown, and painted wrinkles on it as well, so that no one could have recognized him. Then he filled a small cask with old hungary wine in which was mixed a powerful sleeping-drink. He put the cask in a basket, which he took on his back, and walked with slow and tottering steps to the count's castle. It was already dark when he arrived. He sat down on a stone in the court-yard and began to cough, like an asthmatic old woman, and to rub his hands as if he were cold. In front of the door of the stable some soldiers were lying round a fire, one of them observed the woman, and called out to her, come nearer, old mother, and warm yourself beside us.
After all, you have no bed for the night, and must take one where you can find it. The old woman tottered up to them, begged them to lift the basket from her back, and sat down beside them at the fire. What have you got in your little cask, old hag, asked one.
A good mouthful of wine, she answered. I live by trade, for money and fair words I am quite ready to let you have a glass.
Let us have it here, then, said the soldier, and when he had tasted one glass he said, when wine is good, I like another glass, and had another poured out for himself, and the rest followed his example. Hallo, comrades, cried one of them to those who were in the stable, here is an old girl who has wine that is as old as herself, take a draught, it will warm your stomachs far better than our fire. The old woman carried her cask into the stable.