The peasant was sorry to lose his breakfast, but “It can’t be helped,” said he. “After all, I shan’t die of hunger! No doubt whoever took the bread needed it. May it do him good!”

And he went to the well, had a drink of water, and rested a bit. Then he caught his horse, harnessed it, and began ploughing again.

The imp was crestfallen at not having made the peasant sin, and he went to report what had happened to the Devil, his master.

He came to the Devil and told how he had taken the peasant’s bread, and how the peasant instead of cursing had said, “May it do him good!”