"truly it is a long time since he went away," replied the old man, "he must have changed." "would you know him again if he were to come to you?" asked the stranger. "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, "thou art really my son!" and love for his child stirred in his heart. "but," he added, "how canst thou be my son, thou hast become a great lord and livest in wealth and luxury? how hast thou 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 got all that? 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 thee 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 thou art, and what trade thou followest, he will not take thee in his arms and cradle thee in them as he did when he held thee at the font, but will cause thee 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, "thou art my godson, and on that account mercy shall take the place of justice, and i will deal leniently with thee. since thou pridest thyself on being a master-thief, i will put thy art to the proof, but if thou dost not stand the test, thou must marry the rope-maker’s daughter, and the croaking of the raven must be thy 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, thou shalt steal the horse i keep for my own riding, out of the stable; in the next, thou shalt 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, thou shalt steal away out of the church, the parson and clerk. mark what i am saying, for thy life depends on it."