So he came to the little red cottage at the edge of the wood wherein lived the wise woman who knew many things and one.  Hans scraped his feet on the stones until they were clean, and then he knocked at the door.

“Come in,” said the old wise woman.

She was as strange an old woman as one could hope to see in a lifetime.  Her nose bent down to meet her chin, and her chin bent up to reach her nose; her face was gray with great age, and her hair was as white as snow.  She wore a long red cloak over her shoulders, and a great black cat sat on the back of her chair.

“What do you want, Son Hans?” said she.

“I want to find my luck, mother,” said Hans.

“Where did you lose it, Son Hans?” said she.

“That I do not know, mother,” said Hans.

Then the old wise woman said “Hum-m-m!” in a very thoughtful voice, and
Hans said nothing at all.

After a while she spoke again.  “Have you enough to eat?” said she.

“Oh yes!” said Hans.

“Have you enough to drink?” said she.

“Plenty of water, enough of milk, but no beer,” said Hans.

“Have you enough clothes to cover you?” said she.

“Oh yes!” said Hans.

“Are you warm enough in winter?” said she.

“Oh yes!” said Hans.

“Then you had better leave well enough alone,” said she, “for luck can give you nothing more.”

“But it might put money into my pocket,” said Hans.

“And it might take away the good things that you already have,” said she.

“All the same, I should like to find it again,” said Hans; “if I could only lay my hands on it I might make good out of it, even if it is bad.”

“I doubt that,” said the old wise woman.  Nevertheless, she saw that Hans was set in his own way, and that he only talked stiffness into his stubbornness.  So she arose from her chair with much groaning, for her joints were stiffened with age, and limping to a closet in the wall she brought a book thence.  Then she ran her finger down one page and up another, until she had found that which she sought.  When she had found it she spoke: 

[Illustration:  Hans Hecklemann goes to the cottage of the old Wise Woman in search of his Luck.]

“Son Hans, you lost your luck three years ago when you were coming from the fair at Kneitlingen.  You sat down on the overturned cross that lies where three roads meet, and it fell out of your pocket along with a silver shilling.  Now, Hans, your luck was evil, therefore it stuck to the good sign, as all evil things of that kind must, like a fly to butter.  Also, I tell you this:  when an evil manikin such as this touches the sign of the good cross, he becomes visible to the eyes of everybody who chooses to look upon him.  Therefore go to the stone cross and you will find your luck running this way and that, but never able to get away from it.”  So saying, the old woman shut her book again.  Then she arose from her chair and went once more to the closet in the wall.  This time she took from it a little sack woven of black goat’s hair.  “When you have found your luck again, put it into this little bag,” said she; “once in it, no evil imp will be able to get out again so long as you keep the strings tied.  And now good-bye!”