Twice a week the farmer went regularly into the room and asked his
little black captive if he would answer him now, but the little one
still obstinately persisted in his silence. The farmer had, without
success, pursued this course for six weeks, at the end of which time his
prisoner at last gave up. One day, as the farmer was opening the room
door, of his own accord he asked him to come and take him out of his
dirty, gloomy dungeon, promising that he would now cheerfully do all
that was wanted of him.

The farmer first ordered him to tell him his history. The black one
replied--

"My dear friend, you know it just as well as I do, or else you never
would have had me here. You see I happened by chance to come too near
the cross, a thing we little people may not do, and then I was held
fast, and obliged instantly to let my body become visible. In order that
people might not recognise me, I turned myself into an insect. But you
found me out. When we get fastened to holy or consecrated things we can
never get away from them unless a man takes us off. That, however, does
not happen without plague and annoyance to us; though, indeed, to say
the truth, the staying fastened there is not over pleasant. So I
struggled against you too, for we have a natural aversion to let
ourselves be taken in a man's hand."

"Ho, ho! is that the tune with you?" cried the farmer. "You have a
natural aversion have you? Believe me, my sooty friend, I have just the
same for you, and so you shall be away without a moment's delay, and we
will lose no time in making our bargain with each other. But you must
first make me some present."