Still the little people cut
and slashed themselves, and mocked at John, and refused to comply with
his wishes. This he did for three or four days.
Several other courses did he try, but all in vain; his temper was too
gentle to struggle with their obstinacy, and he began now to despair
of ever accomplishing his dearest wish. He began to hate the little
people whom he was before so fond of; he kept away from their banquets
and dances, associated only with Elizabeth, and ate and drank quite
solitary in his chamber. In short, he became almost a perfect hermit,
and sank into moodiness and melancholy.
While in this temper, as he was taking a solitary walk in the evening,
and, to divert his melancholy, was flinging the stones that lay in his
path against each other, he happened to break a tolerably large one,
and out of it jumped a toad. The moment John saw the ugly animal, he
caught him up in ecstasy, and put him into his pocket and ran home,
crying, "Now I have her! I have my Elizabeth! Now you shall catch it,
you little mischievous rascals!" And on getting home he put the toad
into a costly silver casket, as if it was the greatest treasure.
To account for John's joy you must know Klas Starkwolt had often told
him that the underground people could not endure any ill odour, and
that the sight or even the smell of a toad made them faint and suffer
the most dreadful tortures, so that, by means of these animals, one
could compel them to anything.
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