2. Lucky Hans

The fishermen of the neighboring village did not know about the world fame of the professor, and in general, they knew him very little, since he hardly showed himself anywhere. Occasionally, in the early morning or at sunset, he could be seen wandering among the desert dunes. He was considered an incomprehensible, slightly eccentric old man, and nothing more. And suddenly, this old man possessed the wealth that could make everyone happy.

An involuntary timidity seized the deputies-fishermen when they climbed a small hill and saw a white house in a lean garden, towering over a low fence of wild stone. How will he greet them? Will he give them “eternal bread,” as he did to Hans?..

The teacher timidly pushed the gate—it was open—and entered the garden. Fritz and Ludwig followed him in. Hans lagged behind with the air of a man being led to his trial. Two shepherd dogs, unusually fat, rushed towards the newcomers.

“Look at those chunky boys. I suppose they also feed on the dough,” said Fritz. “How fat they are! If he feeds dough to his dogs, will he refuse people?..”

A plump, fresh old man of about sixty, with well-preserved blond hair on his head and a gray beard, came out to the barking of dogs. This was Professor Breuer. He drove the dogs away and cordially asked the fishermen what they needed.

“We’ve come to ask if you can give us ‘eternal bread,’” said Otto Weismann, determined to take a direct approach. “If only this bread really has such properties, as Hans assures.”

Professor Breuer’s face suddenly changed. He frowned and glared at Hans so that he hunched over and trembled.

“Mr. Professor, it’s not my fault!” exclaimed Hans, pressing his hands to his chest. “They tricked me out of the secret.”

“Yes, he is not to blame,” Fritz confirmed and told the professor how they had accidentally discovered the secret of “eternal bread.” The professor’s face brightened somewhat but remained gloomy. He was silent for several minutes, obviously considering the situation. This silence seemed painfully long to the deputies. Finally, the professor spoke:

“Hans is right. One kilogram of dough can feed a person all his life and be inherited by his son. You will hardly understand if I begin to explain to you what it is made of; it wouldn’t matter to you.”

“Of course, it would only matter for us to eat it,” Ludwig answered. “So you will give it to us?”

“No, I will not. At least I can’t right now.” Fritz and Ludwig became agitated.