"All this is very fine," answered the magistrate; "but it happens that the bewitched water can be produced;" and turning to the reaper, he said, "Have you any of this water about you?"
"Yes, worthy magistrate," replied the reaper; "as I came away from the field, I filled my flask with what was left, and brought it with me."
The flask was handed to Peter, and no sooner had he tasted it, than he fell back aghast, exclaiming, "Good heaven, it _is_ wine! and very like Tokay!"
"What! you confess it yourself?" cried the magistrate. "Don't hope, then, for mercy! You shall now pay two hundred guilders, or go to prison for a year!"
"Mercy! mercy!" cried the unfortunate man, falling on his knees. "Consider my family, worthy magistrate; do not disgrace them by sending me to prison! I see the water has been changed, but not by me; and though you will not believe me, I can solemnly assure you, with perfect truth, that I am innocent."
"Pay or go to prison!" answered the magistrate inexorably.
With many tears and groans, the unlucky Peter drew a purse full of guilders from his pocket and paid over the whole proceeds of his sale of wheat, which only amounted to a hundred and five guilders; the magistrate remarking that he would let him off with that if he would solemnly swear never to practise the black art any more, and to unbewitch his well as speedily as possible. This Peter did, in despair of bringing them to reason, and having been thus severely punished for a crime he was utterly guiltless of, he mounted his wagon again, and rode home in a state of mind that can better be imagined than described.
When he reached his own home he rapped on the window as usual, to warn his wife, and Catharine rushed out to meet him, and, throwing her arms round his neck, cried, "Oh, Peter, I am so glad you have returned; the good cabbage soup is all ready for you; so come right in and eat it!"
"Eat!" exclaimed Wise Peter, "how can I swallow a mouthful when I am so overwhelmed with misfortune?"
"What! you also!" said Catharine; "alas! what has happened?"
With accents that trembled with rage and grief, Wise Peter told how he had been treated in the village; but he had scarcely made an end before Catharine, bursting into tears, exclaimed, "Oh, what will become of me! Have mercy, Peter, for it was I who poured the wine down the well!"