There was once a Fiddler, who possessed a great and powerful secret. For
he knew the tune, the only tune, to which Death would dance, and he
could play it well. Now the Fiddler, though he had but poor health, had
no great reason to fear Death, and he wedded with a girl from a
neighbouring village.
On the night following the wedding, there was a merry company assembled
at the house of the Fiddler, and everyone was talking, laughing or
singing, when suddenly there was a tapping at the window. The Fiddler
looked out and saw Death beckoning to him. So, not wishing to disturb
his guests, he picked up his fiddle and went out of the house.
Remembering the tune, however, he did not wait for Death to speak, but
straightway began to play, and Death, his bones rattling, started
dancing in the moonlight.
The guests, missing their host and hearing the music, crowded to the
window, but all they could see was the Fiddler jigging madly away. ‘He
wants us to dance outside in the moonlight,’ cried one, and out they all
went, and danced merrily with Death, who was becoming a little weary, in
the middle.
‘I hate parties--except in time of plague or war’, panted Death to the
Fiddler, and he danced away out of sight, and the Fiddler never saw him
again for many, many years.