49
Joseph
Jacobs
One day the master was out, and then the lad, as curious
as could be, hurried to the chamber where his master kept
his wondrous apparatus for changing copper into gold, and
lead into silver, and where was his mirror in which he could
see all that was passing in the world, and where was the shell
which when held to the ear
whispered all the words that
were being spoken by anyone the master desired to know
about. The lad tried in vain with the crucibles to turn cop-
per and lead into gold and silver—he looked long and vainly
into the mirror; smoke and clouds passed over it, but he saw
nothing plain, and the shell to his ear produced only indis-
tinct murmurings, like the breaking of distant seas on an
unknown shore. “I can do nothing,” he said; “as I don’t know
the
right words to utter, and they are locked up in yon book.”
He looked round, and, see! the book was unfastened; the
master had forgotten to lock it before he went out. The boy
rushed to it, and unclosed the volume. It was written with
red and black ink, and much of it he could not understand;
but he put his finger on a line and spelled it through.
At once the room was darkened, and the house trembled;
a clap of thunder rolled through the passage and the old
room, and there stood before him a horrible, horrible form,
breathing fire, and with eyes like burning lamps. It was the
demon Beelzebub, whom he had called up to serve him.
“Set me a task!” said he, with a
voice like the roaring of an
iron furnace.
The boy only trembled, and his hair stood up.
“Set me a task, or I shall strangle thee!”
But the lad could not speak. Then the evil spirit stepped
towards him, and putting forth his hands touched his throat.
The fingers burned his flesh. “Set me a task!”
“Water yon flower,” cried the boy in despair, pointing to a
geranium which stood in a pot on the floor. Instantly the
spirit left the room, but in another instant he returned with
a barrel on his back, and poured
its contents over the flower;
and again and again he went and came, and poured more
and more water, till the floor of the room was ankle-deep.
“Enough, enough!” gasped the lad; but the demon heeded
him not; the lad didn’t know the words by which to send
him away, and still he fetched water.
It rose to the boy’s knees and still more water was poured. It
mounted to his waist, and Beelzebub still kept on bringing
50
English Fairy Tales
barrels full. It rose to his armpits, and he scrambled to the
table-top. And now the water
in the room stood up to the
window and washed against the glass, and swirled around his
feet on the table. It still rose; it reached his breast. In vain he
cried; the evil spirit would not be dismissed, and to this day he
would have been pouring water, and would have drowned all
Yorkshire. But the master remembered on his journey that he
had not locked his book,
and therefore returned, and at the
moment when the water was bubbling about the pupil’s chin,
rushed into the room and spoke the words which cast
Beelzebub back into his fiery home.
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