Sunday at twelve o'clock precisely
The king of the ballroom , too , is said to have made himself over to him . '' The storm had abated during the narrative of the old man ; the girls timidly lighted their lamps and retired , while the men put a sackful of leaves upon the bench by the stove as a pillow for Peter Munk , and wished him good night . Never in his life had Peter such heavy dreams as during this night ; sometimes he fancied the dark gigantic Michel was tearing the window open and reaching in with his monstrous long arm a purse full of gold pieces , which jingled clearly and loudly as he shook them ; at another time he saw the little friendly glass-mannikin riding upon a huge green bottle about the room , and thought he heard again the same hoarse laughter as in the Tannenbühl ; again something hummed into his left ear the following verse : `` In Holland I wot , There 's gold to be got , Small price for a lot , Who would have it not ? '' Again he heard in his right ear the song of the Schatzhauser in the green forest , and a soft voice whispered to him , `` Stupid Coal-Peter , stupid Peter Munk you can not find a rhyme with ` place , ' and yet are born on a Sunday at twelve o'clock precisely . Rhyme , dull Peter , rhyme ! '' He groaned , he wearied himself to find a rhyme , but never having made one in his life , his trouble in his dream was fruitless . When he awoke the next morning with the first dawn , his dream seemed strange to him ; he sat down at the table with his arms crossed , and meditated upon the whisperings that were still ringing in his ears .