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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 ^J 
 
 ^^ r*'^' ^c^>-^x^ 

 
 THE THREE WAYFARERS. 
 
 p. 3.
 
 fH f ^ ^o 
 
 retell Efgnih. 
 
 -— -"B^S^^ 
 
 p. 7-). 
 
 STransIatflJ from tl)r jFrpntf). 
 
 BURNS, GATES, & CO., 17 PORTMAN STREET, 
 
 AND 63 PATERNOSTER ROW 
 
 f«'«72]
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 HE various Collections of Household 
 and Legendary Tales of different coun- 
 tries which have appeared of late 
 years sufficiently attest the popular interest 
 which attaches to these curious and vener- 
 able relics of bygone days. Even such emi- 
 nent scholars as the Messrs. Grimm have not 
 thought it beneath them to devote their time 
 and research to the task of collecting the old 
 fireside Stories and Legends of Germany ; and 
 the result of their labours is a volume of 
 tales of remarkable interest and attractive- 
 ness, distinguished no less for variety and 
 invention than for pathos, humour, and graceful sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 Similar Collections have been published from time 
 to time in relation to other countries (among others, a 
 remarkable one on the Norse Legends, recently issued); 
 and it seemed to the Editors of the present volume that 
 the time had arrived when Brittany too might venture 
 to put forward her claim in this respect to public at- 
 tention. A selection of some of the best of the Breton 
 Legends is therefore presented to the reader in this little 
 volume. 
 
 Folk co«e
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 It may be remarked, that the Breton Legends, though 
 possessing much that is common to the German and 
 other National Tales, have yet features peculiar to them- 
 selves. They are, we may say, deeply coloured by the 
 character of the country in which they have their home. 
 The sea-coast of Brittany, with its rugged rocks and deep 
 mysterious bays and inlets; the lone country heaths in 
 which stand the Menhir and Dolmen, with their dark im- 
 memorial traditions; the gray antiquated chateaus with 
 their fosses and turrets, — all impart a wild and severe 
 character to its legends, and strike the reader with a 
 kind of awe which he scarcely feels in reading those of 
 other countries. In addition to this, the way in which 
 the reHgion of the Cross, and the doctrines and rites 
 of the Church are interwoven with the texture of almost 
 every one of the Breton Tales, seems to mark them off 
 with still greater distinctness, lending them at the same 
 time a peculiar charm which can hardly fail to commend 
 them to the sympathies of the religious reader. 
 
 We may add that the moral lessons to be derived 
 from many of these Legends are as striking as they are 
 ingeniously wrought out. 
 
 The Tales are a translation from the French ; and 
 for this the Editors are indebted to the skill and good 
 taste of a lady, who has entered most fully into the 
 spirit and feeling of these simple but beautiful specimens 
 of Legendary Lore.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Three Wayfarers 
 
 
 
 PAOE 
 I 
 
 The Legend of St. Galonnek 
 
 
 
 • H 
 
 The Korils of Plauden 
 
 
 
 • 3J 
 
 The Blessed Mao 
 
 
 
 • 47 
 
 The Fate of Keris 
 
 
 
 • 63 
 
 The Stones of Plouhinec . 
 
 
 
 74 
 
 Tedz-a-pouliet ; or, the Dwarf 
 
 
 
 84 
 
 The Spectre Laundresses . 
 
 
 
 96 
 
 EoBiN Redbreast . 
 
 
 
 104 
 
 COMORRE .... 
 
 
 
 118 
 
 The Groac'h of the Isle of Lok 
 
 
 
 132 
 
 The Four Gifts . . . . 
 
 
 
 150 
 
 The Palace of the proud King . 
 
 
 
 167 
 
 The Piper . . . . . 
 
 
 
 172 
 
 The "White Inn . . . . 
 
 
 
 177 
 
 Peronnik the Idiot 
 
 
 
 182 
 
 Appendix 
 
 
 
 207
 
 BRETON LEGENDS. 
 
 ^^' 
 
 THE 
 
 \^ 
 
 A 
 
 ,,. THREE WAYFARERS. 
 
 HERE dwelt in the diocese of Leon, in 
 ancient times, two young noblemen, 
 rich and comely as heart could desire. 
 Their names were Tonyk and Mylio. 
 
 Mylio, the elder, was almost sixteen, 
 and Tonyk just fourteen years of age. 
 They were both under the instruction 
 of the ablest masters, by whose lessons 
 they had so well profited that, but 
 for their age, they might well have re- 
 ceived holy orders, had such been their 
 vocation. 
 
 But in cha,racter the brothers were very un- 
 like. Tonyk was pious, charitable to the poor, 
 and always ready to forgive those who had of- 
 fended him : he hoarded neither money in his 
 
 B 
 
 /^A<-<r=' 
 
 i^OTi
 
 hand nor resentment in his heart. Mylio, on the 
 other hand, while he gave but his due to each, 
 would drive a hard bargain too, and never failed 
 to revenge an injury to the uttermost. 
 
 It had pleased God to deprive them of their 
 father whilst yet in their infancy, and they had 
 been brought up by their widowed mother, a wo- 
 man of singular virtue ; but now that they were 
 growing towards manhood, she deemed it time to 
 send them to the care of an uncle, who lived at 
 some distance, and from whom they might receive 
 good counsels for their walk in life, besides the 
 expectation of an ample heritage. 
 
 So one day, after bestowing upon each a new 
 cap, a pair of silver-buckled shoes, a violet man- 
 tle,* a well-filled purse, and a horse, she bade 
 them set forth towards the house of their father's 
 brother. 
 
 The two boys began their journey in the 
 highest spirits, glad that they were travelling into 
 a new country. Their horses made such good 
 speed, that in the course of a few days they 
 found themselves already in another kingdom, 
 where the trees, and even the corn, were quite 
 different to their own. There one morning, com- 
 ing to a cross-road, they saw a poor woman seated 
 near a wayside cross, her face buried in her apron. 
 
 * Limestra, mantle of some special material, which is 
 highly valued by the Bretons.
 
 Tonyk drew up his horse to ask her what she 
 ailed ; and the beggar told him, sobbing, that she 
 had just lost her son, her sole support, and that 
 she was now cast upon the charity of Christian 
 
 strangers. 
 
 The youth was touched with compassion ; but 
 Mylio, who waited at a little distance, cried out 
 mockingly, 
 
 " You are not going to believe the first piti- 
 ful story told you by the roadside ! It is just 
 this woman's trade to sit here and cheat travel- 
 lers of their money." 
 
 " Hush, hush, my brother," answered Tonyk, 
 " in the name of God ; you only make her weep 
 the more. Do not you see that she is just the 
 age and figure of our own dear mother, whom 
 may Grod preserve." Then stooping towards the 
 beggar-woman, he handed her his purse, saying, 
 
 " Here, my good woman, I can help you but 
 a little ; but I will pray that God Himself may 
 be your consolation." 
 
 The beggar took the purse, and pressed it to 
 her lips ; then said to Tonyk, 
 
 " Since my young lord has been so bountiful 
 to a poor woman, let him not refuse to accept 
 from her this walnut. It contains a wasp with 
 a sting of diamond." 
 
 Tonyk took the walnut with thanks, ^nd pro- 
 ceeded on his way with Mylio.
 
 Ere long they came upon the borders of a 
 forest, and saw a little child, half naked, seek- 
 ing someAvhat in the hollows of the trees, whilst 
 he sung a strange and melancholy air, more 
 mournml than the music of a requiem. He often 
 stopped to clap his little frozen hands, saying in 
 his song, "/ am cold, — oh, so cold !" and the boys 
 could hear his teeth chatter in his head. 
 
 Tonyk was ready to weep at this spectacle, 
 and said to his brother, 
 
 " Mylio, only see how this poor child suffers 
 from the piercing wind." 
 
 " Then he must be a chilly subject," returned 
 Mylio ; " the wind does not strike me as so pierc- 
 ing. 
 
 " That may well be, when you have on a plush 
 doublet, a warm cloth coat, and over all your 
 violet mantle, whilst he is wrapped round by 
 little but the air of heaven." 
 
 " Well, and what then ?" observed Mylio ; " af- 
 ter all, he is but a peasant-boy." 
 
 " Alas," said Tonyk, " when I think that you, 
 my brother, might have been born to the same 
 hard fate, it goes to my very heart ; and I can- 
 not bear to see him suffering. For Jesus' sake 
 let us relieve him." 
 
 So saying he reined in his horse, and call- 
 ing to him the little boy, asked what he was 
 about.
 
 " I am trying," said the child, " if I can find 
 any dragon-flies'^ asleep in the hollows of the 
 trees." 
 
 "And what do you want with the dragon- 
 flies ?" asked Mylio. 
 
 "When I have found a great many, I shall 
 sell them in the town, and buy myself a garment 
 as warm as sunshine." 
 
 "And how many have you found already?" 
 asked the young nobleman. 
 
 " One only," said the child, holding up a little 
 rushen cage enclosing the blue fly. 
 
 "Well, well, I will take it," interposed Tonyk, 
 throwing to the boy his violet mantle. " Wrap 
 yourself up in that nice warm cloak, my poor 
 little fellow ; and when you kneel down to your 
 evening prayers, say every night a ' Hail Mary' 
 for us, and another for our mother." 
 
 The two brothers went forward on their 
 journey ; and Tonyk, having parted with his 
 mantle, suffered sorely for a time from the cut- 
 ting north wind ; but the forest came to an end, 
 the air grew milder, the fog dispersed, and a vein 
 of sunshine kindled in the clouds. 
 
 They presently entered a green meadoAV, where 
 a fountain sprung ; and there beside it sat an aged 
 
 * Aiguilles ailees. The fly commonly called demoiselle 
 in French, in Brittany is nadoz-aer, literally, "needle of the
 
 6 
 
 man, his clothes in tatters, and on his back the 
 wallet which marked him as a beggar. 
 
 As soon as he perceived the young riders, he 
 called to them in beseeching tones. 
 
 Tonyk approached him. 
 
 " What is it, father ?" said he, lifting his hand 
 to his hat in respectful consideration of the beg- 
 gar's age. 
 
 " Alas, my dear young gentlemen," replied 
 the old man, " you see how white my hair is, and 
 how wrinkled my cheeks. By reason of my age, 
 I have grown very feeble, and my feet can carry 
 me no further. Therefore I must certainly sit 
 here and die, unless one of you is willing to sell 
 me his horse." 
 
 " Sell thee one of our horses, beggar I" ex- 
 claimed Mylio, with contemptuous voice ; " and 
 wherewithal have you to pay for it ?" 
 
 "You see this hollow acorn," answered the 
 mendicant: " it contains a spider capable of spin- 
 ning a web stronger than steel. Let me have 
 one of your horses, and I will give you in ex- 
 change the acorn with the spider." 
 
 The elder of the two boys burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 " Do you only hear that, Tonyk ?" said he, 
 turning to his brother. " By my baptism, there 
 must be two calf s feet in that fellow's shoes.'* 
 
 * A proverbial expression iu Brittany to designate folly 
 and impertinence.
 
 But the younger answered gently, 
 
 " The poor can only offer what he has." 
 
 Then dismounting, he went up to the old 
 man, and added, 
 
 " I give you my horse, my honest friend, not 
 in consideration of the price you offer for him, 
 but in remembrance of Christ, who has declared 
 the poor to be His chosen portion. Take and 
 keep him as your own, and thank God, in whose 
 name I bestow him." 
 
 The old man murmured a thousand benedic- 
 tions, and mounting with Tonyk's aid, went on 
 his way, and was soon lost in the distance. 
 
 But at this last alms-deed Mylio could no 
 longer contain himself, and broke out into a 
 storm of reproaches. 
 
 " Fool I" cried he angrily to Tonyk, " are you 
 not ashamed of the state to which you have 
 reduced yourself by your folly ? You tnought 
 no doubt that when you had stripped yourself 
 of every thing, I Avould go shares with you in 
 horse and cloak and purse. But no such thing. 
 I hope this lesson at least will do you good, and 
 that, by feeling the inconveniences of prodigality, 
 you may learn to be more prudent for the future." 
 
 " It is indeed a good lesson, my brother," 
 replied Tonyk mildly; "and I willingly receive 
 it. I never so much as thought of sharing your 
 money, horse, or cloak ; go, therefore, on your
 
 8 
 
 way without troubling yourself about me, and 
 may the Queen of angels guide you." 
 
 Mylio answered not a word, but trotted 
 quickly off; whilst his young brother followed 
 upon foot, keeping him in sight as long as he 
 was able, without a thought of bitterness arising 
 in his heart. 
 
 And thus they went on towards the entrance 
 of a narrow defile between two mountains, so 
 lofty that their tops were hidden in the clouds. 
 It was called the Accursed Strait ; for a dreadful 
 being dwelt among those heights, and there laid 
 wait for travellers, like a huntsman watching for 
 his game. He was a giant, blind, and without 
 feet ; but had so fine an ear for sound, that he 
 could hear the worm working her dark way with- 
 in the earth. His servants were two eagles, which 
 he had tamed (for he was a great magician), and 
 he sent them forth to catch his prey so soon as 
 he could hear it coming. So the country people 
 of the neighbourhood, when they had to thread 
 the dreaded pass, were accustomed to carry their 
 shoes in their hands, like the girls of Roscoff 
 going to market at Morlaix, and held their 
 breath lest the giant should detect their pass- 
 age. But Mylio, who knew nothing of all this, 
 went on at full trot, until the giant was awakened 
 by the sound of horse's hoofs upon the stony 
 way.
 
 9 
 
 " Ho, ho, my harriers, where are you ?" cried 
 he. 
 
 The white and the red eagle hastened to him. 
 
 " Go and fetch me for my supper what is 
 passing by," exclaimed the giant. 
 
 Like balls from cannon-mouth they shot down 
 the depths of the ravine, and seizing Mylio by his 
 violet mantle, bore him upwards to the giant's 
 den. 
 
 At that moment Tonyk came up to the en- 
 trance of the defile. He saw his brother in the 
 act of being carried off by the two birds, and 
 rushing towards him, uttered a loud cry ; but 
 the eagles almost instantly vanished with Mylio 
 in the clouds that hung over the loftiest moun- 
 tain. For a few seconds the boy stood rooted to 
 the spot with horror, gazing on the sky and the 
 straight rocks that rose above him like a wall ; 
 then sinking on his knees, with folded hands, he 
 cried, 
 
 " God, the Almighty Maker of the world, 
 save my brother Mylio I" 
 
 " Trouble not God the Father for so small a 
 matter," cried three little voices close beside him. 
 
 Tonyk turned in amazement. 
 
 " Who speaks ? where are you?" he exclaimed. 
 
 " In the pocket of thy doublet," replied the 
 three voices. 
 
 Tonyk searched his pocket, and drew forth the
 
 10 
 
 walnut, the acorn, and the rushen cage, contain- 
 ing the three different insects. 
 
 " Is it you who will save Mylio ?" said he. 
 
 "We, we, we," they answered in their various 
 tones. 
 
 " And what can you do, you poor little no- 
 bodies V continued Tonyk. 
 
 " Let us out, and thou shalt see." 
 
 The boy did as they desired; and immediately 
 the spider crept to a tree, from which she began 
 a web as strong and as shining as steel. Then 
 mounting on the dragon-fly, which raised her gra- 
 dually in the air, she still wove on her silvery net- 
 work ; the several threads of which assumed the 
 form of a ladder constantly stretching upwards. 
 
 Tonyk mounted step by step on this miracu- 
 lous ladder, until it brought him to the summit 
 of the mountain. Then the wasp flew before 
 him, and led him to the giant's den. 
 
 It was a grotto hollowed in the cliflf, and 
 lofty as a cathedral-nave. The blind and footless 
 ogre, seated in the middle, swayed his vast body 
 to and fro like a poplar rocked by winds, singing 
 snatches of a strange song ; while Mylio lay on 
 the ground, his legs and arms tucked behind him, 
 like a fowl trussed for the spit. The two eagles 
 were at a little distance, by the fireplace, one 
 ready to act as turnspit, whilst the other made 
 up the fire.
 
 c 
 
 11 
 
 The noise which the giant made in singing, 
 and the attention he paid to the preparations for 
 his feast, prevented his hearing the approach of 
 Tonyk and his three tiny attendants ; but the 
 red eagle perceived the youth, and, darting for- 
 ward, would have seized him in its claws, had 
 not the wasp at that very moment pierced its 
 eyes with her diamond sting. The white eagle, 
 hurrying to its fellow's aid, shared the same fate. 
 Then the wasp flew upon the ogre, Avho had 
 roused himself on hearing the cries of his tAvo 
 servants, and set herself to sting him without 
 mercy. The giant roared aloud, like a bull in 
 August. But in vain he whirled around him 
 his huge arms, like windmill- sails ; having no 
 eyes, he could not succeed in catching the crea- 
 ture, and for want of feet it was equally impos- 
 sible for him to escape from it. 
 
 At length he- flung himself, face downwards, 
 on the earth, to find some respite from its fiery 
 dart ; but the spider then came up, and spun 
 over him a net that held him fast imprisoned. 
 In vain he called upon the eagles for assistance : 
 savage with pain, and no longer fearing now they 
 saw him vanquished, their only impulse was to 
 revenge upon him all the bitterness of their past 
 long slavery. Fiercely flapping their wings, they 
 flew upon their former master, and tore him in 
 their fury, as he lay cowering beneath the web
 
 12 
 
 of steel. "With every stroke of their beaks they 
 carried oiF a strip of flesh ; nor did they stay 
 their vengeance until they had laid bare his 
 bones. Then they crouched down upon the man- 
 gled carcass ; and as the flesh of a magician, to 
 say nothing of an ogre, is a meat impossible of 
 digestion, they never rose again. 
 
 Meanwhile Tonyk had unbound his brother ; 
 and, after embracing him with tears of joy, led 
 him from the cavern to the edge of the precipice. 
 The dragon-fly and the wasp soon appeared there, 
 harnessed to the little cage of rushes, now trans- 
 formed into a coach. They invited the two bro- 
 thers to seat themselves Avithin it, whilst the 
 spider placed herself behind like a magnificent 
 lackey, and the equipage rolled onwards with the 
 swiftness of the wind. In this way Tonyk and 
 Mylio travelled untired over meadows, woods, 
 mountains, and villages (for in the air the roads 
 are always in good order), until they came before 
 their uncle's castle. 
 
 There the carriage came to ground, and rolled 
 onwards towards the drawbridge, where the bro- 
 thers saw both their horses in waiting for them. 
 At the saddle-bow of Tonyk hung his purse and 
 mantle ; but the purse had grown much larger and 
 heavier, and the mantle was now all powdered 
 with diamonds. 
 
 Astonished, the youth turned him towards
 
 13 
 
 the coach to ask what this might mean ; but, 
 behold, the coach had disappeared ; and instead 
 of the wasp, the spider, and the dragon-fly, there 
 stood three angels all glorious with light. Aavc- 
 struck and bewildered, the brothers sank upon 
 their knees. 
 
 Then one of the angels, more beautiful and 
 radiant than his fellows, drew near to Tonyk, and 
 thus spoke : 
 
 " Fear not, thou righteous one ; for the wo- 
 man, the child, and the old man, whom thou 
 hast succoured were none others than our blessed 
 Lady, her divine Son, and the holy saint Joseph. 
 They sent us to guard thee on thy way from harm ; 
 and, now that our mission is accomplished, we re- 
 turn to Paradise. Only remember all that has 
 befallen thee, and let it serve as an example for 
 ever. 
 
 At these words the angels spread their wings, 
 and soared away like three white doves, chanting 
 the Hosanna as it is sung in churches at the Holy 
 Mass.
 
 14 
 
 THE LEGEND OE SAINT GALONNEK. 
 
 Saint Galonnek was a native of Ireland, as, in- 
 deed, were almost all the teachers in Brittany of 
 those days, and called himself Galonnus, being 
 evidently of Roman origin. But after he had left 
 his native land, and the fame of his good deeds 
 had spread far and wide, the Bretons, seeing that 
 his heart was like one of those fresh springs of 
 water that are ever bubbling beneath unfading 
 verdure, changed his name to Galonnek, which 
 signifies in their language the open-hearted. 
 
 And, in truth, never had any child of God a 
 soul more tenderly awakened to the sufferings of 
 his fellow-men. No sori-ow was beneath his sym- 
 pathy ; but it was like the sea-breeze, springing 
 with each tide, never failing to refresh the tra- 
 veller weary on his way, or to fill the sails of the 
 humble fishing-boat, and bring it safe to land. 
 
 His father and mother were people of sub- 
 stance, and though themselves buried in the 
 darkness of paganism, spared not the tenderest 
 solicitude in the education of their son. He was 
 placed under the instruction of the most learned 
 masters Ireland could afford, and above all, had 
 the honour of being a pupil of St. Patrick, then
 
 15 
 
 found amongst them like a nightingale in the 
 midst of wrens, or a beech-tree towering above 
 the ferns on a common. 
 
 Under his teaching the boy grew up, learning 
 only to regard himself in the person of God and 
 his neighbours ; and with so fervent a love for 
 souls did the holy apostle of Ireland inspire Ga- 
 lonnek, that at the age of eighteen he had no 
 higher wish than to cross over to Brittany, and 
 preach the kingdom of Heaven to sorrowful sin- 
 ners. 
 
 His father and mother, who had then long 
 since been converted, desired to throAv no hind- 
 rance in the way of his accomplishing this pious 
 work ; but embracing him with tears, they bade 
 him God speed, assured that they should meet 
 again once more before the throne of God. 
 
 Galonnek took his passage in a boat manned 
 by evil-disposed sailors, whose design was to plun- 
 der him ; but when they discovered that the holy 
 youth was possessed of nothing but an iron cruci- 
 fix and a holly-staff, they turned him out upon 
 the coast of Cornouaille, where they abandoned 
 him, helpless and without provisions. 
 
 Galonnek walked about a long time, not know- 
 ing where he was, but perfectly tranquil in his 
 mind, certain that he was in his Master's king- 
 dom. The sea that roared behind him, the birds 
 that warbled in the bushes, and the wind mur-
 
 16 
 
 muring in the leaves, all spoke alike to him, each 
 ■with its own peculiar voice, the name of that 
 Master whose creatures and subjects they were- 
 
 He came at length, towards evening, to a part 
 of the country lying between Audierne and Plou- 
 gastel-des-Montagnes, and there finding a village, 
 he seated himself on the doorstep of the first house, 
 awaiting an invitation to enter. 
 
 But, far from that, the owner of the house 
 bade him rise and go away. Galonnek then went 
 to the door of the next house, and received the 
 same inhospitable order ; and so on from door 
 to door throughout the village. And from the 
 expression every where used to him, zevel, this 
 village was afterwards called Plouzevel, literally, 
 2)eople ivho said, Get up. 
 
 The saint was preparing to stretch his weary 
 limbs by the roadside, \v'hen he perceived a cabin 
 which he had not yet noticed, and drew near 
 the door. 
 
 It was the dwelling of a poor "widow, possessed 
 only of a few acres of barren land, which she had 
 no longer strength to till. But if the fruits of her 
 land were little worth, those of her heart were 
 rich and plentiful. So tenderly generous was her 
 charity, that if any one asked her for a draught 
 of goat's milk, she would give him cream; and it 
 one begged for cream, she would have been ready 
 to bestow the goat itself.
 
 17 
 
 She received Galonnek as if he had been her 
 dearly -beloved son, long absent, and supposed 
 dead. She ministered to him of the best she had, 
 listening with devotion to his holy teaching; and 
 having already charity, the very key of true reli- 
 gion, she was ready to embrace with all her heart 
 the faith of Christ. So early as the very next 
 morning she begged the grace of baptism ; and 
 Galonnek, seeing that the love of her neighbours 
 had already made her a Christian in intention, 
 consented to bestow it. But water was wanted at 
 the moment of the ceremony ; and St. Galonnek 
 going out, took a spade, and digging for a few mo- 
 ments in the old woman's little courtyard, there 
 sprung out an abundant fountain ; and he said, 
 
 "By the aid of this water your barren land 
 will become fertile meadows covered with rich 
 grass, and you will be able to feed as many cows 
 in your new pastures as you have now goats 
 browsing on your heath." 
 
 This miracle began to open the eyes of the 
 villagers ; and they gave permission to Galonnek 
 to take up his abode in a forest which stretched 
 in those days from Plouzevel to the sea-shore. 
 There the holy disciple of St. Patrick built him- 
 self a hut of turf and boughs. 
 
 One day whilst praying in this oratory, he 
 heard the hoofs of a runawSb ' horse : and leav- 
 ing his devotions to see what was the matter, he
 
 18 
 
 saw a knight thrown from his horse amidst the 
 thicket. 
 
 Galonnek ran to his assistance ; and having 
 with much difficulty carried him to his hermit- 
 age, he began to bathe his wounds, to dress them 
 with leaves for want of ointment, and to bind 
 them up with strips torn from his own gown of 
 serge. 
 
 Now it chanced that this knight was the 
 Count of Cornouaille himself ; and he was found 
 presently by the attendants, whom he had out- 
 stripped, peacefully sleeping on the saint's bed 
 of fern. But behold, when he awakened, that 
 saint's prayers had stood instead of remedies, and 
 all his wounds were healed. 
 
 And whilst all stood astonished at this mira- 
 cle, St. Galonnek said gently, 
 
 " Do not be so much surprised ; for if by faith 
 mountains may be moved, why should not charity 
 heal death itself?" 
 
 The count, filled with wonder and delight, 
 declared that the whole forest should become 
 the property of the man who had done so much 
 for him ; and not that only, but that he should 
 have as much good meadow-land as could be 
 enclosed within the strijDS he had torn from his 
 gown to bind the wounds, each strip being re- 
 duced to single threads. Thus Galonnek became 
 the owner of a whole parish; and a proverb arose,
 
 19 
 
 which is still current in those parts, That it is 
 with the length of a benefit received one must mea- 
 sure the field of gratitude. 
 
 Yet Galonnek was none the richer, notAvith- 
 standing the noble liberality of the count. All 
 the income of his estate was given to the poor, 
 Avliilst he still lived on in his leafy hermitage. 
 But as many young men were attracted from 
 the neighbourhood by his reputation for holiness 
 and learning, he built many other cells beside 
 his OAvn ; and thus from his school in that soli- 
 tary glade the light of the Gospel went forth in 
 time through all the length and breadth of the 
 country. 
 
 It was amidst the perfume of wild-flowers, be- 
 side the murmuring brook, that Galonnek taught 
 his pupils. He would teach them to understand 
 somewhat of the providence of God by making 
 them observe the tender care Avitli which the little 
 birds prepare a downy nest for offspring yet un- 
 born. He would point out to their attention 
 how the earth yields moisture to the roots of 
 trees, how the trees become a dwelling-place for 
 thrushes and for finches, and how these again 
 make musical the forest with their cheerful 
 strains, to illustrate the advantage and neces- 
 sity of mutual benevolence and brotherly love. 
 And when need was to stimulate their efforts 
 or their perseverance, he would lead them to
 
 20 
 
 behold the ant, unwearied in her toil, or the con- 
 stant woodpecker whose tiny bill achieves the 
 scooping of an oak. 
 
 But this teaching did not confine him in one 
 place ; and wherever he went his presence was as 
 that of a star in the midst of darkness. 
 
 Now in those days the inhabitants of Brit- 
 tany still exercised the right of wrecking, or in 
 other words, reserved to themselves the privilege 
 of plundering any unfortunate vessels thrown 
 upon their coasts. They spoke of the sea as a 
 cow given to their ancestors by God, and that 
 brought forth every winter for their benefit ; 
 thus they looked on shipwrecks as a positive 
 blessing. 
 
 One night, during a heavy storm, as Galonnek 
 was returnino; to his forest from the sick-bed of 
 a poor man, he saw the dwellers on the coast 
 leading a bull along the rocks. His head was 
 bound down towards his fore-legs, and a beacon- 
 light was fastened to his horns. The crippled 
 gait of the animal gave an oscillating motion to 
 the light, which might be well mistaken at a dis- 
 tance for the lantern of a ship pitching out at 
 sea, and thus deceive bewildered vessels, uncer- 
 tain in the tempest of their course, into the notion 
 of yet being far from shore. Already one thus 
 treacherously beguiled was on its way to ruin, 
 and might be seen close upon the rocks, its full
 
 <w J. 
 
 white sails gleaming through the niglit ; another 
 moment and it would have been airround amonsr 
 the breakers. 
 
 Galonnek rushed amidst the peasants, extin- 
 guished the false beacon, and reproached them 
 for such treachery. But they would not listen 
 to him, and prepared to rekindle the light. Then 
 the saint cried, 
 
 " By all your hopes in this world and the 
 next, have done ! for it is your own brethren 
 and children that you are drawing to destruc- 
 tion." 
 
 And whilst they stood uncertain, God kindled 
 up the sky with flashing lightning ; and behold- 
 ing the vessel as if it had been noonday, they 
 saw that it was indeed a Breton ship. 
 
 Terrified by the dangers to which they had ex- 
 posed themselves, they all fell down at the saint's 
 feet ; the women kissed the hem of his garment 
 with floods of tears, as if his hands had rescued 
 their sons from the depths of the sea, and all with 
 one voice exclaimed, 
 
 " But for him we should have become the 
 murderers of our friends and neighbours.'' 
 
 "Alas, those whom you have already lured 
 to death were equally your neighbours and your 
 friends," replied St. Galonnek ; " for Ave are all 
 descended from Adam, and have been ransomed 
 by the blood of the same God."
 
 23 
 
 The peasants deeply moved, perceived their 
 guilt, and promised to renounce this custom of 
 their fathers. 
 
 Much about the same time, the country of 
 PlugufFant was ravaged by a dragon, which de- 
 voured whole flocks with their shepherds and 
 dogs. In vain had the most courageous men 
 banded themselves together to destroy it. The 
 ferocious monster had put them all to flight ; 
 and now nobody dared to stir out of doors to 
 lead his cattle to water, or go and work in the 
 fields. As soon as Galonnek knew this sad state 
 of things, he set out for the court of the Count of 
 Cornouaille, and asked there which knight was 
 the most valiant before God and man. Every 
 voice declared him to be Messire Tanguy de 
 Carfor, who had m.ade a pilgrimage to the Holy 
 Sepulchre, and killed m(;re than a thousand Sa- 
 racens with his own hand. 
 
 Galonnek desired him to gird on his sword 
 and armour, and to come and fight the dragon, 
 which God had given him a mission to destroy. 
 Carfor instantly armed himself, and accompanied 
 the saint to the monster's den, from which he 
 came out, howling frightfully at their approach. 
 
 Carfor hesitated in spite of himself at so un- 
 wonted an appearance ; but Galonnek said to 
 him, 
 
 " For your soul's sake, messire, have confi-
 
 23 
 
 dence in God, and you shall kill this monster as 
 easily as a gadfly." 
 
 Thus encouraged, the knight advanced to the 
 attack, and with scarce an eiFort pierced the dra- 
 gon three times through with his sword, whilst 
 the saint called upon the three Persons of the 
 Most Holy Trinity. 
 
 Galonnek also freed the country from many 
 other scourges, such as wolves, reptiles, and mos- 
 quitoes with fiery stings ; and being now old 
 enough to receive holy orders, he was ordained 
 by St. Pol; and built a little chapel beside his 
 oratory, where every day he celebrated Mass. 
 
 Meanwhile the leafy cells around him mul- 
 tiplied so fast, that at last they were united in 
 a monastery, called by Galonnek Youlmad, or 
 the Jiouse of good desires. 
 
 He was engaged in drawing up a rule for this 
 monastery, when he was interrupted by a disturb- 
 ing rumour which arose in the neighbourhood. 
 
 It was said that a woman clothed in red, and 
 with a ghastly countenance, had taken passage 
 in a fishing-boat from Crozon. She landed near 
 Poullons ; and when questioned as to her name 
 on departing, she had replied that she was called 
 the Lady of Pestilence. And, in fact, it came to 
 pass, that within a very few days both men and 
 animals were smitten with a contagious disease, 
 which carried them off after a few hours' illness.
 
 24 
 
 So great was the mortality, that ■wood sufficient 
 for the coffins could not be found ; and for want 
 of grave- diggers, the corpses were laid to rest in 
 furrow^s hollowed by the plough. 
 
 Those who were well off gathered all their 
 effects together in wagons, and harnessing all 
 the horses they possessed, drove away at full 
 speed to the mountains, which the pallid woman 
 had not passed. But the poorer people, who 
 had no means of conveyance, and were unwill- 
 ing to leave their little all, awaited their doom 
 at home, like sheep lying down to rest around 
 the butcher's door. 
 
 In this extremity, however, they were not 
 abandoned by Galonnek. He went from hut 
 to hut, carrying aid or consolation. Linen for 
 shrouds and wood for coffins might indeed be 
 wanting ; but he swathed the fever-spotted dead 
 in leafy twigs, and bore them in his own arms to 
 consecrated earth, laying them down tenderly as 
 sleeping infants in their cradle-bed. Then plant- 
 ing a branch of yew, and another of blossoming 
 broom, he entwined them in the form of a cross, 
 and set them as an emblem on the grave ; the 
 yew symbolising the sorrow which underlies the 
 whose course of life, and the blossoming broom 
 the transitory joys which gleam across it. And 
 it is said, that when at last the pestilence was 
 stayed, these holy crosses covered a space of three
 
 35 
 
 days' journey. So many generous and pious acts 
 had spread the fame of Galonnek both far and 
 wide, and all Cornouaille was inflamed with de- 
 votion. Persons came from all parts to the con- 
 vent of Good Desires to listen to his teaching, to 
 ask his prayers, and to offer him gifts ; but these 
 the saint only accepted for the purposes of charity. 
 
 " The priest," he used to say, " is only as a 
 canal, which serves to carry water from overflow- 
 ing streams to arid barren plains." 
 
 Another of his sayings was, " God has given 
 us two hands ; one with which to receive His 
 good treasures, and the other to administer the 
 same to those who need." 
 
 And thus, although the neighbouring nobles 
 had loaded him with presents, his monastery and 
 church were radiant only with his good actions. 
 He was accustomed to sleep upon an osier hurdle, 
 and wore nothing better than a gown of faded 
 serge. But all this external poverty threw out 
 with stronger lustre the brightness of his hidden 
 worth ; and Galonnek was like one of those cas- 
 kets made of earth or bark, in which are treasured 
 rubies and carbuncles. 
 
 The see of Cornouaille becoming vacant, Ga- 
 lonnek was summoned with one voice to fill it. 
 He was anxious to refuse ; but St. Pol himself 
 came to find him out, and said to him that God's 
 stars have no right to conceal themselves in the
 
 26 
 
 grass, but must take their places in the firma- 
 ment. Then St. Galonnek resigned himself; but 
 when the moment came for leaving the turfen 
 oratory, where he had spent the best part of his 
 life, his heart became so heavy that he burst into 
 tears, and cried aloud, "Alas, how shall 1 become 
 worthy of the new office which my brethren im- 
 pose upon me V Then, falling on his knees, he 
 prayed most fervently until God put strength into 
 his heart. When he arose, he took the humble 
 chalice he had been accustomed to use, his sole 
 possession, save the memory of his good deeds, 
 and went on foot to the capital of Cornouaille, 
 where he was consecrated Bishop. 
 
 Here began for St. Galonnek a new life of 
 courage and self-denial. He had to fight for the 
 poor against the rich, for the weak against the 
 mighty. When his friends and disciples beheld 
 him engage, all unprotected, in these dangerous 
 struggles, even the most courageous were at times 
 dismayed ; but Galonnek would say with a smile, 
 "Fear not, my friends, their weapons cannot 
 touch me. God Himself has forged for me a 
 breastplate with the tears of the sorrowful, the 
 miseries of the poor, and the despair of the op- 
 pressed. Behind this armour I can feel no hurt. 
 Blows can only do us mischief by glancing across 
 us at any of those who have taken up our cause ; 
 for from our very heart distils a balsam that can
 
 27 
 
 heal as they come all the wounds inflicted from 
 without." 
 
 Moved by the sight of so much virtue, many 
 powerful noblemen, who had hitherto persisted 
 in idolatry, came to ask of Galonnek instruction 
 and the grace of baptism ; but he would only 
 grant this favour in reward for some good work. 
 If any one had sinned, and came to seek for ab- 
 solution, Galonnek would give him for a penance 
 some virtuous action to perform, some charitable 
 service to his fellow-men. He taught them to re- 
 gard God as the surety for recompenses merited 
 but not received, to invest their lives in Paradise, 
 to break every tie which holds the soul in bond- 
 age, that it may spring forward with unfettered 
 flight in the love of God and man. 
 
 About this time the Count of Cornouaille died, 
 and was succeeded by his son Tugduval. He was 
 a conceited, vain-glorious youth, who could not 
 endure the least contradiction, and had not yet 
 lived long enough to find that life is an instrument 
 on which the first chords we strike are invariably 
 false. 
 
 So unjust had he shown himself in many 
 instances to the townspeople and gentry, that 
 they banded together and drove him from the 
 city. But Tugduval asked assistance from the 
 Count of Vannes, and soon returned with an army 
 to which the rebels could oiFer no resistance.
 
 28 
 
 Multitudes were slain in battle, and the survivors 
 taking refuge in the city, were besieged there by 
 the count. 
 
 He rode round the city-walls, like a hungry 
 wolf parading a sheepfold, swearing never to for- 
 give one of the rebels, or those who had given 
 them shelter. 
 
 So battering-rams were brought, and raised 
 against the walls ; and when once a passage was 
 forced, he mounted his war-horse, and ordering 
 every soldier to take a naked sword in one hand, 
 and a lighted torch in the other, he rushed at 
 their head into the aiFrighted city. 
 
 But Galonnek had seen the terror of the 
 conquered people, who only looked for fire and 
 sword ; and coming out of the cathedral, with all 
 his priests in procession, bearing crosses and all 
 their sacred relics, he cfime the first to meet Tug- 
 duval, his bald head uncovered, and his chalice 
 in his hand. 
 
 The young count, astonished, checked his 
 horse ; but Galonnek went straight up to his 
 saddle-boAV, there paused, and said in a gentle 
 voice, " If any will devour the flock, he must be- 
 gin by slaying the shepherd. I am here at your 
 mercy, and am ready to purchase with my blood 
 forgiveness for the rest." 
 
 At the sight of this holy old man, whom he 
 had early been taught to reverence, and at that
 
 29 
 
 voice which had always sounded like a benediction, 
 Tugduval felt his rage dissolve away ; and letting 
 fall his sword, he bent over his horse's neck, and 
 kissed devoutly the chalice carried by St. Galon- 
 nek. At that instant all the soldiers, as if touched 
 by the same emotion, put out their torches, and 
 turned their sword-points to the ground, crying 
 as with one voice, " Quarter, quarter for all I" 
 
 The young count waited not a repetition of 
 this prayer ; but dismounting hastily, he followed 
 the Bishop to the cathedral, where the conquerors 
 and the conquered joined in songs of thanksgiving 
 to God. 
 
 This was the last great act of St. Galonnek's 
 life. A very few months after, he felt his strength 
 decay, and knew that his end was near. He did 
 not, hoAvever, on that account relax in his good 
 works. Returning one day from a visit to a poor 
 widow bereaved of her last son, he suddenly found 
 himself unable to proceed, and sat down to rest 
 upon a stone by the wayside. There a pedlar 
 from the mountains found him, some time after, 
 sitting motionless ; and thinking that he slept, the 
 man approached him, when he saw that he was 
 dead. Judging from the poverty of his apparel, 
 the pedlar took him for a hermit of the neigh- 
 bourhood, and out of Christian charity wrapped 
 the body in his mantle for a funeral shroud. A 
 shoemaker's wife, who lived a few steps oif, con-
 
 30 
 
 tributed an old chest to serve as a coffin, so that 
 Bishop Galonnek came to his grave like a beggar. 
 
 But the truth was soon discovered by the 
 miracles which were wrought at his tomb ; and 
 the body being taken from the earth, was carried 
 with great state to the city, and buried at the 
 foot of the high altar in the cathedral. St. Pol 
 was requested to write an epitaph upon him; but 
 the apostle of Leon replied that none but an 
 archangel could compose one ; so they merely 
 covered the grave with a plain granite slab, on 
 which was carved the name of Galonnek. 
 
 Ages have passed away, and yet this stone 
 still remains, and thither the Breton mothers 
 come to lay their new-born babes one instant 
 on its consecrated bosom, whilst they repeat the 
 usual form of prayer : 
 
 " Saint Galonnek, bestow upon my child two 
 hearts. Give him the heart of a lion, that he 
 may be strong in well-doing ; and give him the 
 heart of a turtle-dove, that he may be full of bro- 
 therly love." 
 
 The feast of St. Galonnek is celebrated on the 
 1st of April, when the buds of the hedgerows are 
 bursting into leaf, and " the time -of the singing 
 of birds is come."
 
 31 
 
 THE KORILS OF PLAUDEN. 
 
 There dwelt formerly in the land of White- Wheat, 
 as well as in Cornouallle, a race of dwarfs, or 
 Korigans, who, being divided into four nations 
 or tribes, inhabited the woods, the commons, the 
 valleys, and the farms. Those dwelling in the 
 woods were called Kornikaneds, because they 
 played on little horns, Avhich hung suspended 
 from their girdles ; the inhabitants of the com- 
 mons Avere called Korils, from their spending all 
 their nights in dancing by moonlight ; the dwel- 
 lers in the valleys were Poulpikans, from their 
 homes lying so low ; and the Teuz were wild 
 black men, living near the meadows and the 
 wheat-fields ; but as the other Korigans accused 
 them of being too friendly with Christians, they 
 were forced to take flight into Leon, where pro- 
 bably there may still be some of them remaining. 
 
 At the time of which I speak, there were 
 only then hereabouts the Kornikaneds, the Poul- 
 pikans, and the Korils; but they abounded in 
 such numbers, that after dark few people cared 
 to venture near their stony palaces. 
 
 Above all, there lay in Plauden, near the little 
 market-town of Loqueltas, a common known as
 
 32 
 
 Motenn-Dervenn, or 2)l(tce of oaks, whereon there 
 stood an extensive Koril village, that may be seen 
 there to this very day. The mischievous dwarfs 
 came out to dance there every night ; and any one 
 adventurous enough to cross the common at that 
 time was sure to be entrapped into their mazy 
 chain, and forced to wheel about with them till 
 earliest cockcrow ; so that the place was univer- 
 sally avoided after nightfall. 
 
 One evening, hoAvever, Benead Guilcher, re- 
 turning with his wife from a field, where he had 
 been doing a day's work in ploughing for a farmer 
 of Cadougal, took his way across the haunted heath 
 because it was so much the shortest road. It was 
 still early, and he hoped that the Korigans might 
 not have yet begun their dance ; but when he 
 came half-way over the Motenn-Dervenn, he per- 
 ceived them scattered round about the blocks of 
 stone, like birds on a field of corn. He would 
 fain have turned him back ; but the horns of the 
 wood-dwarfs, and the call-cries of the valley-imps, 
 already rose behind him. Benead felt his legs 
 tremble, and said to his wife, 
 
 " Saint Anne, we are done for ! Here come 
 the Kornikaneds and the Poulpikans to join the 
 Korils for their midnight ball. They will make 
 us dance with them till daybreak ; and it is more 
 than my poor heart can endure." 
 
 And, in fact, the troops of Korigans assem-
 
 33 
 
 bling from all parts, came round about poor Guil- 
 cher and his wife like flies in August to a drop of 
 honey, but started back on seeing in his hand 
 the little fork Benead had been using to clear 
 the ploughshare, and began to sing with one 
 accord, 
 
 " Let him be, let her be, 
 
 The plough-fork has he ! 
 
 Let them go ou their way. 
 
 The fork carry they!" 
 
 Guilcher instantly perceived that the instru- 
 ment he held in his hand acted as a charm against 
 the power of the Korigans ; and he and his wife 
 passed unmolested through the very midst of 
 them. 
 
 This was a hint to every body. From that day 
 forward it became a universal custom to take out 
 the little fork of an evening ; and thus armed, any 
 one might cross the heaths and valleys without 
 fear of hindrance. 
 
 But Benead was not satisfied with having ren- 
 dered this service to the Bretons; he was an in- 
 quisitive as well as an intelligent man, and as 
 merry a hunchback as any in the four Breton 
 bishoprics. For I have omitted to tell you that 
 Benead carried from his birth a hump betwixt 
 his shoulders, with which he would thankfully 
 have parted at cost-price. He was looked on 
 also as an honest workman, who laboured con- 
 
 D
 
 34 
 
 scientiously for daily bread, and moreover well 
 deserved the character of a good Christian. 
 
 One evening, unable to resist the wish, he 
 took his little fork, commended himself devoutly 
 to St. Anne, and set off towards the Motenn-Der- 
 venn. 
 
 The Korils saw him from a distance, and ran 
 to him, crying, 
 
 " It is Benead Guilcher \" 
 
 "Yes, it is I, my little men," replied the 
 jovial hunchback ; " I have come to pay you a 
 friendly visit." 
 
 " You are welcome," replied the Korils. " Will 
 you have a dance with us f 
 
 " Excuse me, my good folks," replied Guilcher, 
 " but your breath is too long for a poor invalid." 
 
 " We will stop whenever you like," cried the 
 Korils. 
 
 " Will you promise that ?" said Benead, who 
 was not unwilling to try a round with them, as 
 much for the novelty of the thing as that he 
 might have it to talk about. 
 
 " We will promise thee," said the dwarfs. 
 
 " By the Saviour's cross ?" 
 
 " By the Saviour's cross." 
 
 The hunchback, satisfied that such an oath 
 secured him from all dangers, took his place in 
 their chain ; and the Korils began their round, 
 singing their accustomed song :
 
 35 
 
 " Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday ; 
 Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday."* 
 
 In a few minutes Guilcher stopped. 
 
 " With all due deference to you, good gen- 
 tlefolks," said he to the dwarfs, " your song and 
 dance seem to me very monotonous. You stop 
 too early in the week; and without having much 
 claim to be a skilful stringer of rhymes, I fancy 1 
 can lengthen the chorus." 
 
 " Let us see, let us see !" cried the dwarfs. 
 
 Then the hunchback replied, 
 
 *' Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, 
 Thursday, Friday, Saturday." 
 
 A great tumult arose amongst the Korils. 
 
 " Stard ! stard !"f cried they, surrounding 
 Guilcher ; " you are a bold singer and a fine 
 dancer. Repeat it once more." 
 
 The hunchback repeated, 
 
 " Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, 
 Thursday, Friday, Saturday," 
 
 whilst the Korils wheeled about in mad delight. 
 At last they stopped, and pressing round about 
 Guilcher, they cried with one voice, 
 
 * The song of the Korigans runs thus : Di-lun, di-meurs, 
 di-merc'her. The conclusion of this tale will explain the 
 reason of their keeping only to these first three days. 
 
 t Cry of encouragement amongst the Bretons. In the 
 same sense they use also the word hardi! but the Celtic 
 origin of this last word seems rather doubtful.
 
 36 
 
 " What will you have ? what do you want ? 
 riches or beauty? Speak a wish, and we will 
 fulfil it for you." 
 
 " Are you in earnest ?" asked the labourer. 
 
 " May we be doomed to pick up grain by 
 grain all the millet in the diocese, if we deceive 
 thee/' they replied. 
 
 " Well," said Guilcher, " if you want to make 
 me a present, and leave me to choose what it 
 shall be, I have one thing only to desire from 
 you, and that is, that you take away what I have 
 got here set betwixt my shoulders, and make me 
 as straight as the flagstaff of Loqueltas." 
 
 " Good, good !" replied the Korils. " Be easy, 
 come here." And seizing Guilcher, they threw 
 him in the air, tossing him from one to another 
 like a worsted ball, until he had made the round 
 of the entire circle. Then he fell upon his feet, 
 giddy, breathless, but — without his hump ! Be- 
 nead had grown younger, fatter, beautiful ! Ex- 
 cept his mother, no one could have recognised 
 him. 
 
 You may guess the surprise his appearance 
 created on his return to Loqueltas. No one 
 could believe it was Guilcher ; his wife herself 
 was doubtful about receiving him. Before she 
 could recognise in him her old humpback, he was 
 compelled to tell her exactly how many head- 
 dresses she had in her press, and what was the
 
 37 
 
 colour of her stockings. At last, when every body 
 knew for certain that it was he, they became Avon- 
 derfully anxious to find out what had effected so 
 strange a transformation; but Benead thought 
 that if he told the truth, he should be looked on 
 as an accomplice of the Korigans ; and that every 
 time an ox strayed, or a goat was lost, he should 
 be applied to for its restoration. So he told all 
 those who asked him questions, that it happened 
 unknown to him whilst sleeping on the heath. 
 Thenceforth went all the crooked folk who were 
 silly enough to believe him, and spent their nights 
 upon the open heath, hoping to rise like arrows 
 in the morning ; but many people suspected that 
 there was a secret in the matter, which Guilcher 
 was unwilling to disclose. 
 
 Amongst these latter was a tailor with red 
 hair and squinting eyes, called, from his stammer- 
 ing speech, Perr Balibouzik. He was not, as is 
 usual with his craft, a rhymester, lively on his 
 board as a robin on its twig, and one who scented 
 pancakes from afar as dogs do game ; Balibouzik 
 never laughed, never sung, and fed upon such 
 coarse black barley bread that one could count 
 the straws in it. He was a miser, and, worse than 
 that, a bad Christian ; lending out his money at 
 such heavy interest, that he ruined all the poor 
 day-labourers of the country. Guilcher had long 
 owed him five crowns, and had no means of pay-
 
 38 
 
 ing tiiem. Perr went in quest of him, and de- 
 manded them once more. 
 
 The ci-devant hunchback excused himself, 
 promising to pay after fair-time; but Balibouzik 
 declared that the only condition upon which he 
 would agree to any further delay was that of 
 being at once put in possession of the secret how 
 to grow young and handsome. Thus driven to 
 extremities, Guilcher related his visit to the Ko- 
 rils, what words he had added to their song, and 
 how the choice had been given him between two 
 wishes. 
 
 Perr made him repeat every detail many times 
 over, and then went away, warning his debtor 
 that he would give him eight days longer to lay 
 hands on the five crowns. 
 
 But what he had heard awakened within him 
 all the rage of avarice. He resolved that very 
 nidit to visit the Motenn-Dervenn, to mix in the 
 dance of Korigans, and to gain the choice between 
 two wishes, as proposed to Guilcher, — namely, 
 riches and beauty. 
 
 So soon, therefore, as the moon arose, behold 
 Balibouzik the Squinter on his way towards the 
 common, carrying a little fork in his hand. The 
 Korils saw him, ran to meet him, and demanded 
 whether he would dance. Perr consented, after 
 making the same conditions as Benead, and joined 
 the dancing company of little black men, who
 
 39 
 
 were all engaged in chanting the refrain which 
 Guilcher had increased : 
 
 " Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, 
 Thursday, Friday, Saturday." 
 
 " Wait I" cried the tailor, seized with sudden 
 inspiration ; " I also will add something to your 
 song." 
 
 " Add, add I" replied the Korils. 
 
 And all once more exclaimed, 
 
 " Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, 
 Thursday, Friday, Saturday." 
 
 They stopped, and Balibouzik stammered out 
 
 alone, 
 
 " And the Sun — Sun — Sunday too." 
 
 The dwarfs uttered a prolonged murmur. 
 " Well V they cried all at once. 
 
 " Sun — Sunday too," 
 
 repeated the tailor. 
 
 " But go on, go on." 
 
 "Sun-Sunday." 
 
 " Well, well, well ?" 
 
 " Sun— Sunday too !" 
 
 The Koril chain was broken up ; they ran 
 about as if furious at not being understood. 
 
 The poor stammerer, terrified, stood speech- 
 less, with his mouth wide open. At length the 
 waves of little black heads grew calmer ; they sur-
 
 40 
 
 rounded Balibouzik, and a thousand voices cried 
 at once, 
 
 " Wish a wish ! wish a wish !" 
 
 Perr took heart. 
 
 " A wi-wi-sh/' said he. " Guilcher cho-o-ose 
 between riches and beauty." 
 
 " Yes, Guilcher chose beauty, and left riches. 
 
 " Well, for my part, I choose what Guilcher 
 left." 
 
 "Well done I" cried the Korils. " Come here, 
 tailor." 
 
 Perr drew near in transport. They took him 
 up as they had done Benead ; threw him from 
 hand to hand all round their circle ; and when 
 he fell upon his feet, he had between his shoul- 
 ders Avhat Guilcher had left — that is to say, a 
 hump. 
 
 The tailor was no more Balibouzik simply, he 
 was now Tortik-Balibouzik. 
 
 The poor deformed creature came back to Lo- 
 queltas shamefaced as a dog who has had his tail 
 cut off. As soon as what had happened to him 
 was known, there was not a creature but longed 
 to get sight of him. And every one beholding 
 his back, grown round as that of a well-digger, ut- 
 tered an exclamation of astonishment. Perr raged 
 beneath his hump, and swore to himself that he 
 would be revenged upon Guilcher ; for that he 
 alone was the cause of this misfoi'tune, being a
 
 41 
 
 favourite of the Korif:^ans, and having doubtless 
 begged them thus to insult his creditor. 
 
 So the eight days once expired, Tortik-Bali- 
 bouzik said to Benead, that if he could not pay 
 him his five crowns, he would go and send the 
 officers of justice to sell all he had. Benead en- 
 treated in vain ; the new hunchback would listen 
 to nothing, and announced that the very next 
 day he should send to the fair* all his furniture, 
 his tools, and his pig. 
 
 Guilcher's wife uttered loud cries, reiterating 
 that they were disgraced before the parish, that 
 nothing now was left for them but to take up 
 the wallet and white staff of mendicants, and go 
 begging from door to door ; that it was well 
 worth Benead 's while to have become straight 
 and noble in appearance only to take up the 
 straw girdle ;-f- and thousands of other unreason- 
 able sayings, after the fashion of women when 
 they are in tribulation, — and when they are not. 
 
 To all these complaints Guilcher replied no- 
 thing, unless it were that submission to the will 
 of God and His Blessed Mother was above all 
 things necessary ; but his heart was humbled to 
 
 * Mettre en foire. Breton expression, signifying a sale 
 at the house of a debtor. 
 
 t Breton expression, derived from an old custom of 
 parading all insolvents about the parish with a girdle of 
 straw.
 
 42 
 
 the core. He reproached himself now with not 
 preferring wealth to beauty, when he had the 
 choice ; and he would only too willingly have 
 taken back his hump, well garnished with gold, 
 or even silver, crowns. After seeking in vain for 
 a way out of his trouble, he made up his mind 
 to revisit Motenn-Dervenn. 
 
 The Korils welcomed him with shouts of joy, 
 as before, and made him join them in their dance. 
 Benead had no heart for merriment ; but he would 
 not damp their mirth, and began to jump with 
 all his might. The delighted dwarfs skipped about 
 like dead leaves driven by the winter's wind. 
 
 As they ran they repeated the first line of 
 their song, their companion took up the second ; 
 they went on to the third, and, that being the 
 last, Guilcher was compelled to finish the tune 
 without Avords, which in a short time grew tire- 
 some to him. 
 
 " If I might venture to give you my opinion, 
 my little lords," said he, " your song has the same 
 effect upon me as the butcher's dog, it goes upon 
 three legs." 
 
 " Right, right \" cried all the voices. 
 
 " I think," said Benead, " it would be much 
 the best way to add another foot." 
 
 " Add, add I" replied the dwarfs. 
 
 And all sung out with one accord, and in a 
 piercing utterance,
 
 43 
 
 "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, 
 Thursday, Friday, Saturday, 
 And the Sunday too !" 
 
 There was a short silence ; the dwarfs waited to 
 see what Guilcher would say. 
 
 " All the week have you !" 
 
 finished he gaily. 
 
 Thousands of cries which made but one cry 
 rose up from all corners of the common. The 
 whole heath was instantly covered with jumping 
 Korigans. They sprung out from tufts of grass, 
 from bushes of broom, from rocky clefts, — one 
 would have said it was a very hive of little black 
 men ; whilst all gambolling amongst the heather, 
 they exclaimed, 
 
 " Guilcherik, our saviour ! he 
 Has fulfiU'd the Lord's decree !" 
 
 " By my soul ! what does all this mean ?" cried 
 Benead in astonishment. 
 
 " It means," replied the Korigans, " that God 
 had sentenced us to dwell here amongst men, 
 and every night to dance upon the common, until 
 some good Christian should finish our refrain. 
 You first lengthened it, and we hoped that the 
 tailor you sent would have completed it ; but he 
 stopped short on the very point of doing so, and 
 for that we punished him. You fortunately have 
 done Avhat he could not ; our time of trial now is
 
 44 
 
 over, and we shall go back to our kingdom, which 
 spreads under ground, beneath the very sea and 
 rivers." 
 
 " If this is so," said Guilcher, "and you really 
 are so far indebted to me, do not go away and 
 leave a friend in trouble." 
 
 " What' do you want ?" 
 
 " The means of paying Balibouzik to-day, and 
 the baker for ever." 
 
 " Take our bags, take our bags !" exclaimed 
 the Korigans. 
 
 And they threw at Benead's feet the little 
 bags of rusty cloth which they wore strapi^ed on 
 their shoulders. 
 
 He gathered up as many as he possibly could 
 carry, and ran all joyous home. 
 
 " Light the resin," cried he to his wife, on 
 entering, " and close the screen, that nobody may 
 see us ; for I bring home wealth enough to buy 
 up three whole parishes, their judges, rectors, 
 and all." 
 
 At the same time he spread out upon the 
 table the multitude of little bags, and set himself 
 to open them. But, alas, he had been reckoning 
 the price of his butter before he had bought the 
 cow.* The bags enclosed nothing more than sand, 
 dead leaves, horsehair, and a pair of scissors. 
 
 * Equivalent to the French proverb, " One must not sell 
 the bear-skin till the bear is killed."
 
 45 
 
 On seeing this he uttered such a dreadful cry 
 that his wife, who had gone to shut the door, 
 came back to ask him what could be the matter. 
 Then Benead told her of his visit to the Motenn- 
 Dervenn, and all that had occurred there. 
 
 " St. Anne have pity on us !" cried the fright- 
 ened woman ; " the Korigans have been making 
 sport of you." 
 
 " Alas, I see it but too well," replied Guil- 
 cher. 
 
 " And you have dared, unhappy man, to touch 
 these bags, the property of the accursed." 
 
 " I thought I should find something better in 
 them," exclaimed Benead piteously. 
 
 " Nothing good can come from good-for-no- 
 things," replied the old woman. " What you have 
 got there will bring an evil spell upon our house. 
 Heavens ! if only I have a drop of holy water 
 left." 
 
 She ran to her bed, and taking from the wall 
 a little earthen holy water-stoup, she steeped in 
 it a branch of box ; but scarcely had the dew of 
 God been sprinkled on the bags, when the horse- 
 hair changed at once to necklaces of pearls, the 
 dead leaves into gold, and the sand to diamonds. 
 The enchantment was destroyed, and the wealth 
 that the Korigans would fain have hidden from a 
 Christian eye was forced to reassume its proper 
 form.
 
 46 
 
 Guilcher repaid Ballbouzik his five crowns. 
 He gave to every poor person in the parish a 
 bushel of wheat, with six ells of cloth ; and he 
 paid the rector handsomely for fifty Masses ; then 
 he set out with his wife for Josselin, where they 
 bought a mansion, and where they reared a family 
 who now are gentlefolks.
 
 47 
 
 THE BLESSED I^IAO. 
 
 Those Christians who stand in need of heavenly 
 aid cannot do better than apply themselves to 
 our Lady of All-Help near Faou. In that place 
 has been built, expressly in her honour, the very 
 richest chapel ever yet raised for her by hu- 
 man hands. The whole inside is ornamented with 
 golden images, and the belfry-tower, which is 
 made exactly like the one at Kreisker, is pei"for- 
 ated like a Quimper fritter. There stands also 
 near the church a stone fountain, famed for heal- 
 ing the infirmities both of body and soul. 
 
 It was at this chapel that Mao stopped on his 
 road to pray. Mao came from Loperek, which is 
 a pleasant little parish between Kimerc'h and Lo- 
 goma. His friends and relations were all dead, 
 and his guardian had sent him off to seek his 
 living where he liked, with a good club-stick in 
 his hand and three silver crowns in his purse. 
 
 After saying devoutly at the foot of the high- 
 altar all the prayers he had ever learned from 
 the cure, or the old woman who had nursed him, 
 Mao went out of church to go on his way. But 
 as he passed the palisades, he saw a crowd of 
 people gathered around a corpse upon the grass,
 
 48 
 
 and learnt upon inquiry that it was the body of 
 a poor beggar-man, who had yielded up his soul 
 the morning before, and who could not be buried 
 for want of the money-payment. 
 
 " Was he, then, a heathen, or a wretched re- 
 orobate who had been unfaithful to his Christian 
 duties, that no one will do him this charitable 
 service 1" asked Mao. 
 
 " He was a sheep of the true fold," replied 
 one who stood by ; " and however hardly he might 
 be pressed by hunger, he would not pluck the 
 three apples, or even ears of corn, which are per- 
 mitted by old usage to be gathered by the passing 
 stranger. But poor Stevan has not left the means 
 of paying for his funeral, and so here he is allowed 
 to lie. If I were not as poor myself, I would not 
 have allowed him to lie here so long." 
 
 " Alas," cried Mao, " are the people so cruel 
 in this part of the world, that they suiFer the poor 
 to enter the church-doors whilst living, but not 
 after death ? If money is all that is wanted, here 
 are three crowns ; they are all I have, but I will 
 gladly give them to unlock holy ground to one of 
 the faithful departed." 
 
 The sexton and the priest were now sent for, 
 and the body of the poor beggar was solemnly 
 committed to the grave. As for Mao, he made a 
 simple cross of two yew-branqhes, set it on the 
 grave of the poor beggar ; and after having de-
 
 49 
 
 voutly repeated a De profundis, he set off once 
 more upon his journey toAvards Camfront. 
 
 After a time, however, Mao grew both hungry 
 and thirsty, and remembering that he had nothing 
 left of what his guardian had bestowed, he set 
 himself to gather blackberries, wild -sorrel, and 
 sloes from the hedges. And Avhilst thus employed, 
 he watched the birds that picked their living from 
 the bushes, and said Avithin himself, " After all, 
 these birds are better off than baptised creatures. 
 They have no need of inns, of butchers, bakers, 
 or gardeners ; God's open sky belongs to them, 
 and His earth is stretched before them like a 
 table always spread; the little insects are to them 
 as game, the grass in seed their fields of corn, the 
 fruit of the wild-rose or hawthorn their dessert ; 
 they are at liberty to gather all without payment 
 or permission asked. No wonder that the birds 
 are joyous, and sing from morning till night." 
 
 Turning these thoughts in his mind, Mao slack- 
 ened his pace, and at last sat himself down under 
 the shade of an old oak-tree, where he fell asleep. 
 But behold, in his sleep, a holy man appeared 
 suddenly before him, clad in shining raiment, 
 who thus spoke : 
 
 " I am the poor beggar Stevan, for whom you 
 purchased a consecrated grave. The Blessed Vir- 
 gin Mary, whom I endeavoured to serve while on 
 earth, now reckons me amongst her court, and 
 
 E
 
 50 
 
 lias vouchsafed to me the privilege of bringing 
 you good news. Think not the birds of the air 
 can possibly be happier than baptised creatures ; 
 for the Son of God has shed His blood for these, 
 and they are the favourites of the Holy Trinity. 
 And now hear what the Three Divine Persons 
 will do to recompense your piety. There stands 
 hereabouts, beyond the meadows, an old manor 
 house : you will know it by its weather-vane, 
 which is painted red and green. A man of rank 
 dwells there ; his name is Trehouar ; and he has 
 a granddaughter, lovely as the day, and gentle 
 as a ncAv-born child. Go you, and knock thi? 
 evening at his door, saying that ' you are come, 
 he knows for what' He will receive you, and you 
 will of your own self make out the rest. Only 
 remember, that if you are in want of help, you 
 must say, 
 
 ' Dead beggar, make haste, make haste to me ; 
 For I am sorely in need of thee.' " 
 
 With these words the holy man vanished, and 
 Mao awoke. His first impulse was to thank God 
 for vouchsafing such protection over him ; and this 
 done, he set ofi" across the meadows to find the 
 manor-house. As night was coming on, he had 
 some doubts of being able to do so ; but at last 
 he observed a flight of pigeons, which he set 
 himself to follow, feeling certain they could only
 
 51 
 
 lead him to the house of a noble. And, in fact, 
 he soon perceived the red-and-green weather-vane 
 overtopping a little orchard of black-cherry trees 
 laden with fruit ; for this was a part of the coun- 
 try famous for black cherries. It is from the 
 mountain parishes that all those cherries are 
 brought which may be seen spread out on straAv 
 at the Leon festivals, and Avith which the young 
 men fill their great beaver hats for the damsels 
 of their choice. 
 
 Mao crossed the lawn, shaded with walnut- 
 trees, and then knocked at the most insignificant 
 door he could find, saying, according to the di- 
 rections, that " he was comefoi — theykneiu ivhat" 
 The master of the house was soon fetched. He 
 came, his head shaking, for he was old and feeble, 
 and leaning on the arm of his fresh young grand- 
 daughter. To have seen them together, you would 
 have thought of an old tottering wall supported 
 by a blooming honeysuckle. 
 
 The old gentleman and his granddaughter 
 welcomed the young man with the greatest po- 
 liteness ; a worked ottoman was drawn for him 
 close beside the grandfather's arm-chair, and he 
 was treated with sweet cider whilst they waited 
 for supper. 
 
 Mao was much surprised to see the way in 
 which he was received, and found great delight 
 in watching the young girl, who prepared every
 
 52 
 
 thing Avith tripping step, singing the while like a 
 very lark. 
 
 At last, when supper was over, and Li9zenn, 
 — for so the old man called his grandchild, — had 
 cleared all away, he said to Mao, 
 
 " We have treated you to the best of our abi- 
 lity, and according to our means, young man, 
 though not according to our wishes ; for the man- 
 sion of the Trehouars has been long afflicted by 
 a most grievous plague. Formerly you might 
 have counted twenty horses, and full forty cows, 
 here ; but the evil spirit has taken possession 
 of the stalls and stables ; cows and horses havv^ 
 disappeared one after another, and that as often 
 as they have been replaced, until the whole of 
 my savings have been thus consumed. All re- 
 ligious services to rid us of this destructive de- 
 mon have hitherto failed. There has been no- 
 thing for us but to submit ; and for want of 
 cattle my whole domain now lies uncultivated. 
 I had put some confidence in my nephew Ma- 
 telinn, who is gone to the war in France ; but as 
 he does not return, I have given notice through- 
 out the country, both from the altar and else- 
 Avhere, that the man who can deliver the manor 
 from this curse shall both marry Li9zenn, and 
 inherit my property after me. All those who 
 have hitherto made the attempt, by lying in 
 wait in the stables, have disappeared like the
 
 53 
 
 cows and horses. I pray God that you may be 
 more fortunate/' 
 
 Mao, whom the remembrance of his vision 
 secured against all fear, replied that, by the aid 
 of the Blessed Virgin, he hoped to triumph over 
 the hidden foe. So, begging that he might have 
 a fire to keep him warm, he took his club-stick, 
 and Avent forth. 
 
 The place to which he was conducted was a 
 very large shed, divided in two parts for the use 
 both of the cows and horses ; but now all was 
 empty from one end to the other, and the cob- 
 webs hung in thick festoons from the racks. 
 
 Mao kindled a fire of broom upon the broad 
 paving-stones, and began to pray. 
 
 The first quarter of an hour he heard nothing 
 but the crackling of the flame ; the second quar- 
 ter of an hour he heard nothing but the wind 
 that whistled mournfully through the broken 
 door; the third quarter of an hour he heard 
 nothing but the little death-Avatch tapping in the 
 rafters overhead ; but the fourth quarter of an 
 hour, a dull sound rumbled beneath the pave- 
 ment ; and at the further end of the building, in 
 the darkest corner, he saw the largest stone rise 
 slowly up, and the head of a dragon coming from 
 below. It was huge as a baker's kneading-trough, 
 flattened like a viper's, and all round the forehead 
 shone a row of eyes of different colours.
 
 54 
 
 The beast raised his two great fore-feet armed 
 ■with scarlet claws upon the edge of the pave- 
 ment, glared upon Mao, and then crept hissing 
 from his hole. As he came on, his scaly body 
 could be seen unrolling from beneath the stone 
 like a mighty cable from a ship's hold. 
 
 Courageous as was the youth, at this spectacle 
 
 his blood ran cold ; and just as he began to feel 
 
 the dragon's breath, he cried aloud, 
 
 " Dead beggar, make haste, make haste to me j 
 For I am sorely in need of thee." 
 
 In an instant the shining form he had invoked 
 
 was at his side. 
 
 " Fear nothing," said the saint ; " those who 
 are protected by the Mother of God are always 
 victorious over the monsters of the earth. Raise 
 your club and lay the dragon dead at your feet ;" 
 and with these words he raised his hand, pro- 
 nouncing some words that can only be heard in 
 heaven. Mao aimed a fearful blow at the dragon's 
 head, and that very moment the huge monster 
 sank dead upon its side. 
 
 The next morning, when the sun rose, Mao 
 went to awaken all the people at the manor, and 
 led them to the stables ; but at sight of the dead 
 monster even the most courageous started back 
 at least ten paces. 
 
 " Do not be afraid," said the young man ; 
 " the Blessed Mother came to my assistance, and
 
 55 
 
 the beast that fed on cattle and their guardians 
 is nothing now but lifeless clay. Only fetch some 
 ropes, and let us drag it from this place to some 
 lonely waste." 
 
 So they did as he desired ; and when the dra- 
 gon was drawn forth from his den, the whole 
 length of his body was so great that it extended 
 twice round the black -wheat barn-floor.* 
 
 The old man, happy in his deliverance from 
 so dangerous an enemy, fulfilled the promise he 
 had made to Mao, and gave to him Liyzenn in 
 marriage. She was led to church at Camfront, 
 her left arm circled, after the custom of the coun- 
 try, by as many rows of silver-lace as there were 
 thousands of francs in her dowry ; and the story 
 goes that she had eighteen. 
 
 As soon as he was married, Mao bought cattle, 
 hired servants, and soon brought the land about 
 the manor to a more flourishing condition than 
 it had ever knoAvn before. 
 
 Then went the grandfather to seek his recom- 
 pense from God, and left all that he possessed to 
 the young couple. 
 
 So happy were they in each other and them- 
 selves, that no baptised creature ever felt the like, 
 — so happy, that when they knelt in prayer, they 
 could think of nothing to request from God that 
 
 * In many farms there is a small threshing-floor reserved 
 especially for black wheat.
 
 56 
 
 lie had not already blest them with ; so they had 
 nothing to do but to thank Him. But one day, 
 as they were sitting down to supper with their 
 servants, one of their attendants introduced a 
 soldier, so tall that his head reached the rafters ; 
 and Li9zenn knew him for her cousin Matelinn. 
 He had come back from the French war to marry 
 his cousin ; and learning what had come to pass 
 during his absence, he had felt the bitterest 
 rage. Nevertheless, he betrayed nothing of his 
 thoughts to Mao and his wife; for his was a de- 
 ceitful heart. 
 
 Mao, who suspected nothing, received him 
 with affectionate kindness ; set before him the 
 best of every thing in the house ; had the hand- 
 somest room prepared for his reception ; and went 
 out to show him all the fields, now ripe for har- 
 vest. 
 
 But the higher Matelinn saw the flax, and the 
 heavier the ears of corn, the more he was enraged 
 at not being the possessor of all this ; to say no- 
 thing of his cousin Li9zenn, who had grown more 
 charming tiian ever. So one day he proposed to 
 Mao that they should hunt together on the downs 
 of Logoma, and thus contrived to lead him to- 
 wards a distant heath, where he had an old de- 
 serted windmill, against which bundles of furze 
 for the baker's oven at Daoulas had been heaped 
 up in great piles. When they reached this place, he
 
 57 
 
 turned his face towards Camfront, and said sud- 
 denly to his young companion, 
 
 " Ah ! I can see the manor all this way oflP, 
 with its great courtyard." 
 
 '' Which way ?" asked Mao. 
 
 " Behind that little beech-wood. Don't you 
 see the great hall-windows ?" 
 
 " I am too short," said Mao. 
 
 '' Ah, you are right, so you are ; and it is a 
 pity too, for I can see my cousin Liczenn in the 
 little yard beside the garden." 
 
 " Is she alone ?" 
 
 " No ; there are some gentlemen with her 
 whispering in her ear." 
 
 " And what is Li5zenn doing ?" 
 
 " Li9zenn is listening to them, whilst she 
 twists her apron-string." 
 
 Mao raised himself upon the tips of his toes. 
 " Ah, I wish I could see," said he. 
 
 " Oh, it is easy enough," replied Matelinn 
 " you have only to climb up to the top of the mill, 
 and you will be higher than I am." 
 
 Mao approved of this advice, and climbed up 
 the old ladder. When he reached the top, his 
 cousin asked him what he saw ? 
 
 " I see nothing but the trees^ which seem as 
 near the ground as wheat of two months' growth," 
 said Mao, " and houses looking in the distance 
 small as the sea-shells stranded on the shore."
 
 58 
 
 " Look nearer," returned Matelinn. 
 
 " Nearer, I can only see the ocean, with its 
 boats skimmino; the water like seagulls." 
 
 " Look nearer yet," said the soldier, 
 
 " Still nearer is the common, bright with rose- 
 blossoms and the purple heath." 
 
 " Look down beneath you." 
 
 " Beneath me !" cried Mao, in terror. " Instead 
 of the ladder to descend by, I see flames rushing 
 upwards to devour me." 
 
 And he saw rightly ; for Matelinn had drawn 
 away the ladder, and set fire to the surrounding 
 fagots, so that the old mill stood as in a furnace. 
 
 Mao in vain besought the giant not to leave 
 him there to perish in so horrible a manner. He 
 only turned his back, and went off whistling down 
 the moor. 
 
 Then the young man, feeling himself nearly 
 suffocated, invoked the saint once more : 
 
 " Dead beggar, make haste, make haste to me ; 
 For I am sorely in ueed of thee," 
 
 Instantly the saint appeared, holding in his 
 right hand a glittering rainbow, one end of which 
 was resting on the sea, and in his left Jacob's 
 mysterious ladder, that once led from heaven to 
 earth. With the rainbow he put out the fire, and 
 by the ladder's aid poor Mao reached the ground, 
 and went safely home. 
 
 On beholding him, Matelinn was seized with.
 
 59 
 
 surprise and consternation, sure that his cousin 
 would hasten to denounce him before the magis- 
 trates ; and rushing to fetch his arms and war- 
 horse, was hurrying from the courtyard, when Mao 
 came to him, and said, 
 
 " Fear nothing, cousin ; for no man saw what 
 passed upon Daoulas common. Your heart was 
 hurt that Grod had given me more good things 
 than yourself; I wish to heal its wounds. From 
 this day forward, so long as I live, you shall share 
 with me half of all that I possess, save and ex- 
 cept my darling Li9zenn. So come, my cousin, 
 harbour no more evil thoughts against me." 
 
 The deed of this convention was drawn up by 
 the notary in the usual form ; and Matelinn re- 
 ceived henceforward, every month, the half of all 
 the produce of the fields, the courtyard, and the 
 stables. 
 
 But this noble generosity of Mao served only 
 to increase the spite and venom of his heart ; for 
 undeserved benefits are like wine drank when one 
 is not thirsty, — they bring us neither joy nor pro- 
 fit. He did not wish Mao dead, because then he 
 would have lost his share in Mao's wealth ; but 
 he hated him, even as a caged wolf hates the hand 
 that feeds him. 
 
 What made him still more angry was, to see 
 how every thing prospered with his cousin. To 
 crown his felicity, he had a son born to him, both
 
 60 
 
 strong and beautiful, and one that wept not at his 
 birth, the nurses said. Mao sent the news out to 
 the first people of the neighbourhood, entreating 
 them to come to the baptismal feast. And they 
 came from more than six leagues round, — from 
 Braspars, Kimerch, Loperek, Logoma, Faou, Ir*- 
 villac, and Saint Eloi,— -all mounted on hand- 
 somely-equipped horses, with their wives or 
 daughters behind them. The baptism of a prince 
 of Cornouaille himself could not have brought 
 together a more goodly assembly. 
 
 When all were drawn up ready in the front 
 of the manor-house, and Mao came to Li9zenn's 
 chamber for the new-born babe, with those who 
 were to hold it at the font, and his nearest friends, 
 Matelinn presented himself also, with a traitor's 
 joy depicted on his countenance. On seeing him, 
 the mother uttered a cry ; but he, approaching, 
 bent over her with specious words, and thanked 
 her for the present she had made him. 
 
 " What present V asked the poor woman, in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Have you not added a new-born infant to 
 my cousin's wealth ?" said the soldier. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Liyzenn. 
 
 " A parchment deed confirms to me," said Ma- 
 telinn, " half of every thing Mao possesses, save 
 and except yourself; and I am consequently come 
 to claim my share of the child."
 
 61 
 
 All who were present uttered a great cry; 
 but Matelinn repeated calmly that he would have 
 his half of the child ; adding that if they refused 
 it to him, he would take it himself, showing as 
 he spoke a huge knife, which he had brought with 
 him for the purpose. 
 
 Mao and Li9zenn in vain, with bended knees 
 and folded hands, besought him to renounce his 
 rights ; the giant only answered by the whetting 
 of his knife against the steel which dangled at 
 his waist ; and at last he was about to snatch the 
 infant from its poor young mother's arms, when 
 Mao all at once recalled the invocation to the 
 dead beggar, and repeated it aloud. Scarcely had 
 he finished, when the room was lighted with a 
 heavenly radiance, and the saint appeared upon 
 a shining cloud, the Virgin Mary at his side. 
 
 " Behold me here, my friends," said the Mother 
 of God, " called by my faithful servant from ce- 
 lestial glory to come and decide between you." 
 
 " If you are the Mother of God, save the child," 
 cried Liyzenn. 
 
 " If you are the Queen of Heaven, make them 
 render me my dues," said Matelinn audaciously. 
 
 " Listen to me," said Mary. " You first, Mao, 
 and you, Ligzenn, come near me with your new- 
 born child. Till now I have given you the joys 
 of life ; I will do more, and give you for the future 
 the delights of death. You shall follow me into
 
 62 
 
 tbe Paradise of my Son, where neither griefs, nor 
 treachery, nor sicknesses can enter. As for you, 
 Goliath, you have a right to share the new bene- 
 fit conferred on them ; and you, like them, shall 
 die, but only to go down twelve hundred and fifty 
 leagues below the surface of the earth,* into the 
 kingdom of the wicked one, whose servant you 
 are." 
 
 Saying these words, the Holy Mary raised her 
 hand on high, and the giant was buried in a gulf 
 of fire ; whilst the young husband, with his wife 
 and child, sank gently towards each other as in 
 peaceful sleep, and disappeared, borne upwards 
 on a cloud. 
 
 * This is the exact distance at which the Bretons de- 
 fine Hell to lie.
 
 63 
 
 KERIS. 
 
 In the olden times a king named Grallon reigned 
 over the land of Cornouaille. He was as good a 
 man as any son of Adam, and gave a cordial wel- 
 come at his court to all who had in any way dis- 
 tinguished themselves, were they plebeian or noble 
 in their birth. Unfortunately his daughter was 
 an ill-conducted princess, who, in order to evade 
 his parental rule, had taken herself off to live at 
 Keris, some few leagues from Quimper. 
 
 One day, whilst King Grallon was out hunting 
 in a forest at the foot of Menehom, he and all his 
 followers lost their way, and came at last before 
 the cell of the holy hermit Corentin. Grallon 
 had often heard tell of this saintly man, and was 
 delighted to find he had discovered his retreat ; 
 but as for the attendants, who were dying with 
 hunger, they looked with any thing but satisfac- 
 tion upon the humble cell, and whispered discon- 
 tentedly amongst themselves that they should cer- 
 tainly have to sup on pious prayers. 
 
 Corentin, enlightened by God's grace, per- 
 ceived their thoughts, and asked the king whether 
 he would accept a little refreshment. Now Grallon,
 
 64 
 
 who had eaten nothing since cockcrow that morn- 
 ing, was extremely willing ; so the saint, calling . 
 the king's cupbearer and cook, desired them tt) 
 prepare his majesty a good repast after his long 
 abstinence. 
 
 Then, leading them both to a fountain which 
 bubbled near his cell, he filled Avith water the 
 golden pitcher carried by the first, and cut a 
 morsel from a little fish swimming in the basin, 
 Avhich he gave to the second, desiring them both 
 to spread the board for the king and all his train. 
 But the cupbearer and the cook began to laugh, 
 and asked the holy man if he could possibly mis- 
 take the king's courtiers for miserable beggars, 
 that he presumed to offer them his scraps of fish- 
 bone and his frog-wine. Corentin quietly be- 
 sought them not to be disturbed, for that God 
 would provide for all. 
 
 Consequently they resolved to follow out the 
 saint's directions, and found, to their astonish- 
 ment, his words come true. For while the water 
 he had poured into the golden pitcher came out 
 a wine as sweet as honey and as hot as fire, the 
 morsel of fish became an ample meal for twice as 
 many guests as the king's suite contained. 
 
 Grallon was told by his two servants of this 
 miracle ; and they moreover showed him, as a 
 greater wonder, the very same little fish from which 
 Corentin had cut a portion, swimming safe and
 
 65 
 
 sound in the fountain, as whole as if the saint's 
 knife had never come near him. 
 
 At this sight the King of Cornouailk was 
 struck with admiration, and exclaimed to the 
 hermit, " Man of God, this place is not for you ; 
 for He who is my Master as well as yours has for- 
 bidden us to hide a light beneath a bushel. You 
 must leave this hermitage, and come with me. 
 You shall be Bishop of Quimper, my palace shall 
 be your dwelling-place, and the whole city your 
 possession. I will build a monastery for your 
 disciples at Landevenec, and the abbot shall be 
 chosen by yourself" 
 
 The good king kept his promise ; and giving 
 up his capital to the new Bishop, he went to dwell 
 himself in the town of Is. 
 
 This town then stood upon the very spot now 
 covered by the Bay of Douarnenez. It was so 
 large and so beautiful, that when the people of 
 old times were seeking for a title worthy of 
 the capital of France, they could find nothing 
 better than to call it Par-is, that is to say. The 
 like of Ts. It was lower than the sea itself, and 
 was defended from all fear of inundation by huge 
 dikes, with doors to open occasionally and let the 
 tide in or out. Grallon's daughter, the Princess 
 Dahut, carried the silver keys which locked these 
 doors suspended round her neck, from which fact 
 the people generally called her Alc'huez, or more
 
 66 
 
 shortly Ahez.* Now she was a great magician, 
 and had adorned the town with numberless works 
 of art far surpassing the skill of any human hand. 
 All the Koriganst throughout Cornouaille and 
 Vannes had assembled at her call to make the 
 dikes and forge the iron doors ; they had plated 
 the palace all over with a metal resembling gold 
 (Korigans being clever workers in metal), and had 
 fenced in the royal gardens with balustrades glit- 
 tering like polished steel. 
 
 They it was that kept Dahut's beautiful sta- 
 bles in such perfect order, — those stables that 
 were paved with black, red, or white marble, ac- 
 cording to the different colours of the horses 
 in the stalls. And to the Korigans also was in- 
 trusted the care of the harbour, where the sea- 
 dragons were kept ; for by her powerful art had 
 Dahut gained a wonderful ascendency over the 
 monsters of the deep, so that she had placed one 
 at the disposal of each inhabitant of Keris, that 
 it should serve him like a horse, on which he 
 might safely go across the waves to fetch rich 
 treasure from another shore, or to attack the 
 
 * Good or bad, these etymologies of Ahez and Par-is are 
 accepted by the Bretons. The last word is even treasured 
 in a proverb, 
 
 " Since the town of Is was drowned, 
 The like of Paris is not found." 
 
 t See the Korigans of Plauden, p. 31.
 
 67 
 
 ships ot foreign enemies. So these citizens were 
 rich to that degree they actually measured out 
 their corn in silver vessels. But wealth had har- 
 dened and perverted their hearts ; beggars were 
 hunted like wild-beasts from the city, for they 
 could not endure the sight of any in their streets 
 but merry prosperous folks dressed out in smart 
 apparel. Our Lord Himself, had He appeared 
 amongst them clad in sackcloth, would have been 
 drivep away. The only church remaining in the 
 city was so forsaken, that the very beadle had 
 lost the key of it ; nettles grew upon its steps, 
 and against the door-posts of the principal en- 
 trance birds had built their nests. The people 
 of the place spent their days and nights in pub- 
 lic-houses, dancing-rooms, or theatres ; the one 
 only object of their lives being apparently to ruin 
 their immortal souls. 
 
 As for Dahut, she set them the example ; day 
 and night it was a gala in the palace. Gentlemen, 
 nobles, and princes came from the remotest lands 
 to visit this far-famed court. Grallon received 
 them with courtesy, and Dahut with something 
 more. If they were good-looking, she bestowed 
 on them a magic mask, by means of which 
 they were enabled to keep private appointments 
 with her in a tower standing near the flood- 
 gates. 
 
 There they might remain talking with her
 
 68 
 
 until the hour when the sea-swallows, beginning 
 their flight, passed before the tower-windows ; 
 when Dahut hastily bade them farewell, and, in 
 order that they might go out, as they came, un- 
 seen, she once more brought forth her magic 
 mask ; but, alas, this time it closed upon them 
 of its own accord with a strangling embrace. 
 Then a black man took up the dead body, threw 
 it across his horse like a sack of wheat, and went 
 to fling it down the precipice between Huelgoat 
 and Poulaouen. This is indeed only too true ; 
 for even to this day can be heard from the depths 
 of the ravine the melancholy wailing of these 
 wretched souls at evening hour. May all good 
 Christians bear them in remembrance at their 
 prayers !* 
 
 Corentin, who heard of all the goings-on at 
 Keris, had many a time warned Grallon that the 
 forbearance of God was drawing to a close ;-f* but 
 the king had lost all his power, and dwelt quite 
 
 * This legend still finds credence. The spot is shown, 
 not far from Carhaix, whence Grallon's daughter caused her 
 lovers' bodies to be thrown ; and some antiquaries are also 
 of opinion that Dahut often visited this town, which has 
 received from her its name of Ker-Ahfez (town of Ah^z) ; at 
 any rate, the old paved road which leads from the Bay of 
 Douarnenfez to Carhaix proves beyond a doubt that there 
 was frequent intercourse between Keris and this city. 
 
 t All that follows is more properly ascribed to St. Co- 
 rentin's disciple Gwenole.
 
 69 
 
 solitary in one wing of his palace, like a grand- 
 father who has made over all his property to his 
 heirs ; and as for Dahut, she cared uothina: for 
 the threats or warnings of the saint. 
 
 Well, one evening, when she was keeping fes- 
 tival as usual, she was informed that a powerful 
 prince from the very ends of the earth had ar- 
 rived to see her, and he was instantly announced. 
 
 He was a man of vast stature, clad from 
 head- to foot in scarlet, and so bearded that even 
 his two eyes, glittering as stars, could scarcely 
 be seen. He began by paying compliments in 
 rhyme to the princess — no poet or minstrel could 
 have conceived the like ; and then he went on 
 talking with such brilliant wit, that the entire 
 assembly Avere struck dumb with astonishment. 
 But what moved the friends of Dahut Avith the 
 greatest Avonder was to find how far more skilful 
 than themselves this stranger was in sin. He 
 was familiar, not only with all that human ma- 
 lice has invented since the creation of the world, 
 in every region where mankind has dwelt, but 
 with all that it ever shall invent until the mo- 
 ment when the dead shall rise again from their 
 cold graves to stand before the judgment-seat of 
 Grod. Ahez and her court perceived that they 
 had found their master, and one and all resolved 
 to put themselves under the teaching of the 
 bearded prince.
 
 70 
 
 By way of beginning, he proposed to them a 
 new dance, danced in hell by the Seven Deadly 
 Sins. So he called in for the purpose a musician 
 he had brought with him. This was a little dwarf, 
 clad in goat-skin, and carrying a sort of bagpipe 
 under his arm. 
 
 Scarcely had he begun to play before Dahut 
 and her courtiers were seized with a sort of 
 frenzy, and began to whirl about like the waves 
 of the sea in a furious storm. The stranger in- 
 stantly took advantage of the confusion to snatch 
 the silver keys of the floodgates from the prin- 
 cess's neck, and to vanish from the saloon. 
 
 Meanwhile Grallon sat all solitary in the great 
 gloomy hall of his own lonely palace. He was 
 near the hearth ; but the fire was almost out. 
 His heart grcAv every moment more and more 
 heavy with sad though cs, when all at once the 
 great folding-doors flew open, and St. Corentin 
 appeared upon the threshold, with a halo of glory 
 round his brow, his pastoral stafi" in his hand, 
 and a cloud of incense floating all about him. 
 
 " Rise, great king," said he to Grallon ; "take 
 whatever precious things may still be left you, 
 and flee away ; for God has given over to the 
 power of the demon this accursed city." 
 
 Grallon, terrified, started up ; and calling to 
 some faithful old servants, took what treasure 
 he possessed ; and mounting his black horse, fol-
 
 71 
 
 lowed after the saint, who shot like an arrow 
 through the air. 
 
 As they passed before the dikes, they heard 
 a wild roar of waters, and beheld the bearded 
 stranger, now restored to his own demoniac form, 
 opening the floodgates with the silver keys he 
 had taken from the Princess Dahut. The sea 
 already streamed like a torrent on tOAvards the 
 devoted city ; and the white waves, rearing their 
 foamy crests above the lofty roofs, seemed rush- 
 ing to its overthrow. The dragons chained Avith- 
 in the harbour roared with terror, for even the 
 beasts could feel their end at hand. 
 
 Grallon would fain have uttered a cry of warn- 
 ing, but St. Corentin once more entreated him to 
 fly, and he plunged onwards at full gallop toAvards 
 the shore ; on, on through streets and squares 
 and high roads, ever followed by the raging ocean, 
 with the horse's hind hoofs always in the surge. 
 So passed he by the palace of Dahut herself, who 
 darted down the marble steps, her wild locks float- 
 ing on the breeze, and sprang behind her father 
 on the saddle. The horse stood still suddenly, 
 staggered, and already the water mounted to the 
 old king's knees. 
 
 " Help, help, St. Corentin \" he cried in terror 
 
 " Shake ofi" the iniquity you carry at your 
 back," replied the saint, "and, by the help of 
 God, you shall be saved."
 
 73 
 
 But Grallon, who was, after all, a father, hesi- 
 tated what to do. Then St. Corentin touched 
 the princess on the shoulders with his pastoral 
 staff, and she sank downwards to the sea, disap- 
 pearing in the depths of the gulf, called after her 
 the Gulf of Ahez. 
 
 The horse, thus lightened of his load, made 
 a spring forwards, and so gained Garrec Rock, 
 where to this very day may be seen the print- 
 marks of his iron shoes.* 
 
 The first act of the king was to fall upon his 
 knees, and pour forth thanks to God ; then turn- 
 ing towards Keris,t he tried to judge how great 
 was the danger from which he had been so mira- 
 culously rescued, but in vain he sought the an- 
 cient Queen of Ocean. 
 
 There, where had stood but a few moments 
 before a harbour, palaces, treasures of wealth, and 
 thousands of people, was to be seen nothing now 
 but a smooth bay, on whose unruffled surface the 
 stars of heaven looked calmly down; but beyond, 
 in the horizon, just over the last ruins of the sub- 
 
 * The peasantry still show the marks. 
 
 t There appears to exist incontestable evidence of a 
 city named Is lying buried beneath the Bay of Douamenez ; 
 and the relics which have been discovered from time to 
 time prove beyond all doubt that art had been brought to 
 very high perfection in those early times. It was supposed 
 to date about the fourth century.
 
 73 
 
 merged dikes, there appeared the great red man, 
 holding up with a triumphant air the silver keys. 
 Many are the forests of oak that have sprung 
 up and withered since this awful warning ; but 
 through every generation fathers have told it to 
 their children until this day. Up to the time of 
 the great Revolution, the clergy of the different 
 river-side parishes were wont to embark every 
 year in fisher-boats, and go to say Mass over the 
 drowned city. Since that time this custom has 
 been lost, with many another one ; but when the 
 sea is calm, the remains of the great town may 
 clearly be seen at the bottom of the bay, and the 
 neighbouring downs are full of relics which bear 
 witness to its wealth.
 
 74 
 
 THE STONES OF PLOUHINEC. 
 
 Plouhinec is a poor little market-town beyond 
 Hennebon, towards the sea. Bare commons or 
 little fir-woods stretch all round it, and enough 
 grass to fit an ox for the butcher's knife, or so 
 much bran as would fatten one descendant of the 
 Rohans,* has never yet been yielded by the entire 
 parish. 
 
 But if the people of those parts have reason 
 to complain for want of corn and cattle, they 
 abound in flints to that degree that they could 
 furnish materials for the rebuilding of Lorient ; 
 and out beyond the town there lies a great wide 
 common, whereon are set by Korigans two rows 
 of tall stones that might be taken for an avenue, 
 did they but lead to any thing. 
 
 Near this place, hard by the banks of the 
 River Intel, there lived in former days a man 
 named Marzinne. He was wealthy for those parts, 
 that is to say, he could salt down a little pig 
 once a year, eat as much black bread as he cared 
 for, and buy himself a pair of wooden shoes when 
 Laurel Sunday came round.'f* 
 
 * The pigs in Brittany are called, no one knows why, 
 mah-rohan, sons of Rohan. 
 
 t Easter Sunday. So called because blessed laurel is 
 distributed at church upon this day.
 
 75 
 
 And he was looked upon as proud by his 
 neighbours, and had taken upon him to refuse 
 the hand of his sister Rozenn to many a young 
 fellow who laboured for his daily bread. 
 
 Amongst others to Bernez, a diligent labourer 
 and a Avorthy Christian ; but one whose only trea- 
 sure, coming into life, had been that of a good 
 will. Bernez had known Rozenn as a little girl, 
 when he first came to work in the parish from 
 Ponscorff-Bidre ; and by degrees, as Rozenn grew 
 up, the attachment of Bernez had grown stronger 
 and stronger. 
 
 It may be easily believed that Marzinne's re- 
 fusal was a terrible heartsore for him ; neverthe- 
 less he kept up his courage, for Rozenn always 
 received him kindly. 
 
 Well, Christmas-eve came round ; and as a 
 raging storm kept every one at the farm from 
 going to the midnight Mass, they all sat round 
 the fire together, with many young men from 
 the neighbourhood, and amongst them Bernez. 
 The master of the house, willing to show off, had 
 caused a supper of black-puddings, and hasty 
 puddings made with wheat flour and honey, 
 to be prepared ; so that they all sat gazing to- 
 wards the hearth, except Bernez, whose eyes 
 were fixed upon Rozenn. 
 
 But just as all the benches were drawn round 
 the table, and every wooden saucer ready to be
 
 76 
 
 dipped into the steaming bowl, an old man sud- 
 denly pushed open the door, and wished the as- 
 sembled company a good appetite. He Avas a 
 beggar from Pluvigner, one who never set his 
 foot on the church-floor, and of whom all good 
 folks stood in dread. It was said that he be- 
 witched cattle, turned standing corn black, and 
 sold to wrestlers magic herbs. He was even sus- 
 pected of becoming a goblin* at his pleasure. 
 
 However, wearing as he did the garb of a 
 mendicant, he was welcomed by the farmer to 
 the fireside ; a three-legged stood was placed at 
 his disposal, and he received a portion with the 
 guests. 
 
 When the beggar had done eating and drink- 
 ing, he asked for a night's lodging, and Bernez 
 showed him his way into the stable, where a bald 
 old ass and sorry ox were already established. 
 The beggar stretched himself down between the 
 two to share their warmth, and rested his head 
 upon a pillow of turf 
 
 But just as he was dropping off to sleep the 
 clock struck twelve. Then the old ass shook his 
 long ears, and turned towards the ox. 
 
 " "Well, my cousin," said he, in friendly tones, 
 " and how has it gone with you since last Christ- 
 mas, when we talked together ?" 
 
 * Gohelinn. None other than the loup-garou, or were- 
 wolf.
 
 Instead of answering, the horned beast looked 
 sideways at the beggar, and muttered, 
 
 " It was hardly worth while for the Almighty to 
 vouchsafe us speech together on a Christmas-eve, 
 and thus to acknowledge the assistance rendered 
 by the presence of our ancestors at the birth of 
 the Saviour, if we are compelled to put up with 
 this fellow as our auditor." 
 
 "You are very proud, my friend," answered 
 the ass gaily. " It is I rather who have reason 
 to complain, I, whose noble ancestor once carried 
 the Saviour to Jerusalem, proved by the cross 
 imprinted ever since upon the shoulders of our 
 family. But I can be well satisfied with what- 
 ever Providence has seen fit to grant me. Besides 
 which, you see well enough that the sorcerer is 
 asleep." 
 
 " All his witchcrafts have been powerless to 
 enrich him," said the ox ; " and he has thrown 
 his soul away for little enough. The devil has 
 not evqn hinted to him of the lucky chance he 
 might have hereabouts in the course of a few 
 days." 
 
 "What lucky chance?" asked the ass. 
 
 "How !" cried the ox; "don't you know, then, 
 that each hundred years the stones on Plouhinec 
 Common go down to drink at the river Intel, 
 and that whilst away the treasures they conceal 
 are left exposed ?"
 
 78 
 
 " Ah, I remember now," interrupted the ass 
 "but then the stones return so quickly to their 
 places, that it is impossible to avoid being crushed 
 to pieces by them if you have not as your safe- 
 guard a twig of cross-wort surrounded by the 
 five-leaved clover." 
 
 " And besides," continued the ox, " the trea- 
 sures you may carry off all fade to dust unless 
 you offer in return a baptised soul. A Christian 
 must suffer death before the devil will permit 
 you to enjoy in peace the wealth of Plouhinec." 
 
 The beggar was not asleep, but had listened 
 breathless to this conversation. 
 
 " Ah, my good friends," thought he to himself 
 " you have made me richer than the wealthiest in 
 all Vannes or Lorient. Be easy ; the sorcerer of 
 Pluvigner shall not lose Paradise for nothing." 
 
 He slept at last ; and rising at the break of 
 day, he wandered through the country seeking 
 for the cross-wort and the five-leafed clover." 
 
 He was forced to look long and wander far, 
 where skies are milder and plants always green, 
 before he was successful. But on the eve of New- 
 Year's Day he came again to Plouhinec, with the 
 countenance of a weasel that has just found out 
 the entrance to a dovecote. 
 
 In crossing the common, he came upon Bernez 
 busy striking with a pointed hammer on thi 
 tallest of the stones.
 
 79 
 
 " Heaven preserve me !" cried the sorcerer, 
 laughing, " are you anxious to dig yourself a 
 dwelling in this rocky mass V 
 
 " No," answered Bernez quietly ; " but as I 
 am just now out of work, I thought that perhaps 
 if I carved a cross upon one of these accursed 
 stones, I should perform an act agreeable in the 
 sight of God, and one that may stand me in good 
 stead some other day." 
 
 " Then you have something to ask of Him ?" 
 said the old man. 
 
 " All Christians need to beg from Him salva- 
 tion for their souls," replied the youth. 
 
 " And have you nothing too to say to Him 
 about Rozenn ?" pursued the beggar, in a lower 
 voice. 
 
 Bernez looked full at him. 
 
 " Ah, you know that ?" said he. " Well, after 
 all, there is no shame or sin in it. If I seek for 
 the maiden, it is that I may lead her to the pre- 
 sence of the priest. Unhappily Marzinne is wait- 
 ing for a brother-in-law who can count more reals 
 than I have silver coins." 
 
 " And if I could put you in the way of having 
 more louis-d'or than Marzinne has reals T said 
 the sorcerer in an under-tone. 
 
 " You !" cried Bernez. 
 
 "I !" 
 
 " And how much do you ask for this ?"
 
 80 
 
 " Only to be remembered in your prayers." 
 
 " Then there will be nothing that can com- 
 promise my soul ?" 
 
 " Only courage is required." 
 
 " Tell me, then, what must be done," cried 
 Bernez, letting fall his hammer. " If needs be, I 
 am ready to encounter any difficulty." 
 
 The beggar, seeing him thus disposed, related 
 how that on that very night the treasures of the 
 common would be all exposed ; but he said nothing 
 at the same time of the way by which the stones 
 were to be avoided aa they came trooping back. 
 The young fellow thought nothing was wanting 
 but boldness and a swift step ; so he said, 
 
 " As sure as I am a living man I will profit 
 by this opportunity, old man ; and I shall always 
 be at your service for the notice you have given 
 me of this great chance. Only let me finish the 
 cross I have begun engraving on this stone ; 
 when the time comes, I will join you near the 
 little pine-wood." 
 
 Bernez kept his word, and arrived at the ap- 
 pointed place an hour before midnight. He found 
 the beggar carrying a wallet in each hand, and 
 one suspended round his neck. 
 
 " Come," said he to the young man, " sit down 
 there, and think of all that you will do when you 
 have silver, gold, and jewels to your heart's con- 
 tent"
 
 81 
 
 The young man sat down on the ground and 
 answered, " If I have silver to my heart's con- 
 tent, I will give my gentle Rozennik* all that she 
 wishes for, and all that she can Avish for, from 
 linen to silk, from bread to oranges/' 
 
 " And if you have gold V added the sorcerer. 
 
 " If I have gold at will," replied the youth, 
 " I will make wealthy all my Rozennik's relations, 
 and all the friends of her relations, to the utmost 
 limits of the parish." 
 
 " And if at last you should have jewels in 
 plenty ?" continued the old man. 
 
 " Then," cried out Bernez, " I would make all 
 the people in the world happy, and I would tell 
 them it was my Rozennik's desire." 
 
 Whilst talking thus, the hour slipped away, 
 and midnight came. 
 
 At the same instant a great sound arose upon 
 the heath, and by the light of the stars all the 
 huge stones might be seen leaving their places, 
 and hurrying towards the river Intel. They 
 rushed down the slope, grazing the earth as they 
 went, and jostling each other like a troop of 
 drunken giants. So they swept pell-mell past the 
 two men, and were lost in darkness. 
 
 Then the beggar flew towards the common, 
 followed by Bernez ; and there, in the very spots 
 
 * ' Rozennik' is the diminutive of Rosenn ; so ' GuU- 
 cherik,' " Korils of Plaudeu," p. 43. 
 
 G
 
 82 
 
 where just before huge stones had reared them- 
 selves, they now saw large holes piled to the 
 brim with gold, with silver, and with precious 
 stones. 
 
 Bernez uttered a cry of admiration, and made 
 the sign of the cross ; but the sorcerer made haste 
 to cram all his wallets, turning meanwhile an at- 
 tentive ear towards the river's bank. 
 
 He had just finished lading the third bag, 
 whilst the young man stuffed the pockets of his 
 linen vest, when a dull sound like that of an ap- 
 proaching storm was audible in the distance. 
 
 The stones had finished drinking, and were 
 coming back once more. 
 
 They rushed, stooping forwards like runners 
 in a race, and bore down all before them. 
 
 "When the youth perceived them, he started 
 upright, and exclaimed, 
 
 " Ah, Blessed Virgin^ we are lost !" 
 
 " I am not," said the sorcerer, taking in his 
 hand the cross-wort and the five-leaved clover, 
 " for I have that here which will secure my safety ; 
 but a Christian must be sacrificed to make good 
 all these treasures, and the bad angel put thee 
 in my way. So give up Rozenn, and prepare to 
 die." 
 
 While yet he spoke the stony army was at 
 hand ; but holding forth his magic nosegay, they 
 turned aside to right and left to fall upon Bernez.
 
 83 
 
 He, feeling sure that all was over for him, sank 
 down upon his knees and closed his eyes ; when 
 the great stone that led the troop stopped all at 
 once, and barring the way, set itself before him 
 as a protecting rampart. 
 
 Bernez, astonished, raised his head, and re- 
 cognised the stone on which his hand had traced 
 a cross. Being thenceforward a baptised stone, 
 it could have no power to harm a Christian. 
 
 Remaining motionless before the young man 
 until all its fellows had regained their places, it 
 then rushed forwards like a sea-bird to retake its 
 own, and met upon its way the beggar hampered 
 with his three ponderous bags of gold. 
 
 Seeing it advance, he would have defied it 
 with his magic plants ; but the stone, become 
 christian, was no longer subject to the witchery 
 of the demon, and hurrying onwards, crushed the 
 sorcerer like an insect. 
 
 Bernez had not only all his own collection, but 
 the three full wallets of the mendicant, and be- 
 came thus rich enough to wed his R,ozenn, to 
 bring up a numerous family, and to succour his 
 relations, as well as the poor of the whole country 
 around, to the end of his long life.
 
 84 
 
 TEUZ-A-POULIET ;* OR, THE DWARF. 
 
 The vale of Pinard is a pleasant slope which lies 
 behind the city of Morlaix. There are plenty of 
 gardens, houses, shops, and bakers to be found 
 there, besides many farms that boast their ample 
 cowsheds and full barns. 
 
 Now, in olden times, when there was neither 
 conscription nor general taxation, there dwelt in 
 the largest of these farms an honest man, called 
 Jalm Riou, who had a comely daughter, Barbaik. 
 Not only was she fair and well-fashioned, but she 
 was the best dancer, and also the best drest, in all 
 those parts. When she set oif on Sunday to hear 
 Mass at St. Mathieu's church, she used to wear 
 an embroidered coif, a gay neckerchief, five petti- 
 coats one over the other "f* and silver buckles in 
 her shoes ; so that the very butchers' wives were 
 iealous, and tossing their heads as she went by, 
 they asked her whether she had been selling the 
 devil her black hen.ij: But Barbaik troubled her- 
 
 * Literally 'will-o'-the-wisp.' 
 
 t A number of petticoats is considered a mark of great 
 elegance amongst the Breton peasant-girls around Morlaix. 
 
 + A proverbial expression, denoting some suspicion 
 that people have been acquiring wealth somewhat unfairly. 
 There is an old tradition among the country people, that if 
 you take a black hen to some crossroadj and there use cer-
 
 85 
 
 self not at all for all they said, so long as she 
 continued to be the best-dressed damsel, and the 
 most attractive at the fair of the patron saint. 
 
 Barbaik had many suitors, and among them 
 was one who really loved her more than all the 
 rest ; and this was the lad who worked upon her 
 father's farm, a good labourer and a Avorthy Chris- 
 tian, but rough and ungainly in appearance. So 
 Barbaik would have nothing to say to him, in 
 spite of his good qualities, and always declared, 
 when speaking of him, that he was a colt of Pont- 
 rieux.* 
 
 Jegu, who loved her with all his heart, was 
 deeply wounded, and fretted sorely at being so 
 ill-used by the only creature that could give him 
 either joy or trouble. 
 
 One morning, when bringing home the horses 
 from the field, he stopped to let them drink at 
 the pond ; and as he stood holding the smallest 
 one, with his head sunk upon his breast, and ut- 
 tering every now and then the heaviest sighs, for 
 he was thinking of Barbaik, he heard suddenly a 
 voice proceeding from the reeds, which said to him, 
 
 " Why are you so miserable, Jegu ? things 
 are not yet quite so desperate." 
 
 tain incantations, you can summon the devil, who will pay 
 you handsomely for your hen. 
 
 * Heuhetd-Pontreau, a Breton form of reproach to youug 
 rustics of ill address.
 
 86 
 
 The farmer's boy raised his head astonished, 
 and asked who was there. 
 
 " It is I, the Teuz-a-pouliet," said the same 
 voice. 
 
 " I do not see you," replied Jegu. 
 
 " Look closely, and you will see me in the 
 midst of the reeds, under the form of a beautiful 
 green frog. I take successively whatever form I 
 like, unless I prefer making myself invisible." 
 
 " But can you not show yourself under the 
 usual appearance of your kind V 
 
 " No doubt, if that will please you." 
 
 With these words the frog leaped on one of 
 the horses' backs, and changed himself suddenly 
 into a little dwarf, with bright green dress and 
 smart polished gaiters, like a leather-merchant 
 of Landivisiau. 
 
 Jegu, a little scared, drew back a step or two ; 
 but the Teuz told him not to be afraid, for that, 
 far from wishing him harm, he was ready to do 
 him good. 
 
 " And what makes you take this interest in 
 me ?" inquired the peasant, with a suspicious 
 air. 
 
 " A service which you rendered to me the last 
 winter,'' said the Teuz-a-pouliet. " You doubt- 
 less are aAvare that the Korigans of the White- 
 Wheat country and of Cornouaille declared war 
 against our race, because they say we are too fa-
 
 87 
 
 vourably disposed to man* "We were obliged to 
 flee into the bishopric of Leon, where at first we 
 concealed ourselves under divers animal forms. 
 Since then, from habit or fancy, we have con- 
 tinued to assume them, and I became acquainted 
 with you through one of these transformations." 
 
 " And how was that ?" 
 
 " Do you remember, three months ago, whilst 
 working in the alder-park, finding a robin caught 
 in a snare ?" 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Jegu ; " and I remember 
 also that I let it fly, saying, 'As for thee, thou 
 dost not eat the bread of Christians : take thy 
 flight, thou bird of the good God.' " 
 
 " Ah, well, that robin was myself Ever since 
 then I vowed to be your faithful friend, and I 
 will prove it too by causing you to marry Bar- 
 baik, since you love her so well." 
 
 " Ah, Teuz-a-pouliet, could you but succeed 
 in that," cried Jegu, " there is nothing in this 
 world, except my soul, that I would not bestow 
 upon you." 
 
 * All European nations have admitted two races of 
 dwarfs, the one mischievous and impious, the other bene- 
 volent to man. The first is represented in Brittany by the 
 Eorigans, the second by the Teiiz. The Teuz is just the 
 same as the elf or fairy of the Scotch and Irish, aiding the 
 labourers in their toil, and resembles the mountain spirit 
 of Germany.
 
 88 
 
 " Let me alone," replied the dwarf ; " yet a 
 few months from this time, and I will see you 
 are the master of that farm and of the maiden 
 too." 
 
 " And how can you undertake that ?" asked 
 the youth. 
 
 " You shall know all in time ; all you have 
 to do just now is to smoke your pipe, eat, drink, 
 and take no trouble about any thing." 
 
 Jegu declared that nothing could be easier 
 than that, and he would conform exactly to the 
 Teuz's orders ; then, thanking him, and taking off 
 his hat as he would have done to the cure or the 
 magistrate, he went homewards to the farm. 
 
 The following day happened to be Sunday. 
 Barbaik rose earlier than usual, and went to the 
 stables, which were under her sole charge ; but 
 to her great surprise she found them already 
 freshly littered, the racks garnished, the cows 
 milked, and the cream churned. Now, as she 
 recollected having said before Jegu, on the pre- 
 ceding night, that she wanted to be ready in 
 good time to go to the feast of St. Nicholas, she 
 very naturally concluded that it was he who had 
 done all this for her, and she told him she was 
 much obliged. Jegu, however, replied in a peevish 
 tone, that he did not know what she meant ; but 
 this only confirmed Barbaik in her belief 
 
 The same good service was rendered to her
 
 89 
 
 now every day. Never had the stable been so 
 cleanly, nor the coavs so fat. Barbaik found her 
 earthen pans full of milk at morning and at even- 
 ing, and a pound of fresh-churned butter decked 
 ■with blackberry-leaves. So in a few weeks' time 
 she got into the habit of never rising till broad 
 daylight, to prepare breakfast and set about her 
 household duties. 
 
 But even this labour was soon spared her ; 
 for one morning, on getting out of bed, she found 
 the house already swept, the furniture polished, 
 the soup on the fire, and the bread cut into the 
 bowls; so that she had nothing to do but go to 
 the courtyard, and call the labourers from the 
 fields. She still thought it was an attention shown 
 to her by Jegu, and she could not help consider- 
 ing what a very convenient husband he would 
 be for a woman who liked to have her time to 
 herself 
 
 And it was a fact that Barbaik never uttered 
 a wish before him that was not immediately ful- 
 filled. If the wind was cold, or if the sun shone 
 hot, and she was afraid of injuring her complexion 
 by going to the spring, she had only to say low, 
 " I should like to see my buckets filled, and my 
 tub full of washed linen." Then she would go and 
 gossip with a neighbour, and on her return she 
 would find tub and buckets just as she had de- 
 sired them to be, standing on the stone. If she
 
 90 
 
 found the rye-dough too hard to bake, or the 
 oven too long in heating, she had only to say, 
 " I should like to see my six fifteen-pound loaves 
 all ranged upon the board above the kneading- 
 trough," and two hours later the six loaves were 
 there. If she found the market too far off, and 
 the road too bad, she had only to say over-night, 
 " Why am I not already come back from Morlaix, 
 with my milk-can empty, my tub of butter sold 
 out, a pound of black cherries in my wooden 
 platter, and six reals* at the bottom of my apron- 
 pocket?" and the next morning, when she rose, 
 she would discover at the foot of her bed the empty 
 milk-can and butter-tub, the pound of cherries 
 in her wooden plate, and six reals in her apron- 
 pocket. 
 
 But the good offices that were rendered to her 
 did not stop here. Did che wish to make an ap- 
 pointment with another damsel at some fair, to 
 buy a ribbon in the town, or to find out the hour 
 at which the procession at the church was to 
 begin, Jegu was always at hand; all she had to 
 do was to mention her wish before him, and the 
 thing was done. 
 
 When things were thus advanced, the Teuz 
 advised the youth to ask Barbaik now in mar- 
 
 * lu Brittany they reckon by reals ; the Breton real is 
 not worth one franc eight centimes, as in Spain, but only 
 twenty-five centimes.
 
 91 
 
 riage ; and this time she listened to all he had to 
 say. She thought Jegu very plain and unman- 
 nerly ; but yet, as a husband, he was just what she 
 wanted. Jegu would wake for her, work for her, 
 save for her. Jegu would be the shaft-horse, forced 
 to draw the whole weight of the wagon ; and she, 
 the farmer's wife, seated on a heap of clover, and 
 driving him with the whip. 
 
 After having well considered all this, she 
 answered the young man, as a well-conducted 
 damsel should, that she would refer the matter 
 to her father. 
 
 But she knew beforehand that Jalm Riou 
 would consent; for he had often said that only 
 Jegu would be fit to manage the farm when he 
 should be no more. 
 
 So the marriage took place the very next 
 month ; and it seemed as if the aged father had 
 but waited until then to go and take his rest in 
 Paradise; for a very few days after the marriage 
 he died, leaving the house and land to the young 
 folks. 
 
 It was a great responsibility for Jegu; but 
 the Teuz came to his assistance. He became the 
 ploughboy at the farm, and did more work alone 
 than four hired labourers. He it Avas who kept 
 the tools and harness in good order, who repaired 
 omissions, Avho pointed out the proper time for 
 sowing or for mowing. If by chance Jegu had
 
 92 
 
 occasion to expedite some work, the Teuz would 
 go and tell his friends, and all the dwarfs would 
 come with hoe, fork, or reaping-hook upon their 
 shoulders ; if teams were wanted, he would send 
 the farmer to a town inhabited by some of his 
 tribe, who would be out upon the common ; and 
 Jegu had only to say, "Little men, my good 
 friends, lend me a pair of oxen, or a couple of 
 horses, with all that is needed for their work," 
 and the team would appear that very instant. 
 
 Now all the Teuz-a-pouliet asked in payment 
 of these services was a child's portion of broth, 
 served up in a milk-measure, every day. So Jegu 
 loved him like his own son. Barbaik, on the con- 
 trary, hated him, and not without reason ; for the 
 very next day after marriage she saw with as- 
 tonishment she was no longer assisted as before ; 
 and as she was making her complaint to Jegu, 
 who seemed as if he did not understand her, the 
 dwarf, bursting out in laughter, confessed that 
 he had been the author of all these good offices, 
 in order that the damsel might consent to marry 
 Jegu ; but that now he had other things to do, 
 and she must once more undertake the household 
 management. 
 
 Deceived thus in her expectations, the daughter 
 of Jalm Riou treasured in her heart a furious rage 
 against the dwarf Every morning, when she had 
 to rise before the break of day and milk the cows
 
 93 
 
 or go to market, and every evening, wlien she had 
 to sit up till near midnight churning cream, she 
 cursed the Teuz who had encouraged her to look 
 forward to a life of ease and pleasure. 
 
 However, one day, being invited to a wedding 
 at Plouezorc'h, and not being able to take the 
 farm-mare, as it was near foaling, she asked the 
 Teuz-a-pouliet for a steed ; and he sent her to the 
 dwarf village, telling her to explain exactly what 
 she wanted. 
 
 So Barbaik Avent ; and thinking she was doing 
 for the best, she said, 
 
 " Teuz, my friends, lend me a black horse, 
 with eyes, mouth, ears, saddle, and bridle." 
 
 The horse that she had asked for instantly 
 appeared, and she set out on him towards Ploue- 
 zorc'h. 
 
 But soon she saw that every one was laughing 
 as she went along. 
 
 " See, see !" they cried, " the farmer's wife has 
 sold her horse's tail." 
 
 Barbaik turned quickly round, and saw in- 
 deed that her horse had no tail. She had for- 
 gotten to ask for one ; and the malicious dwarf 
 had served her to the letter. 
 
 Disconcerted, she would have hastened on, but 
 the horse refused to mend his pace ; and so she 
 was compelled to endure the jests of passers-by. 
 The young wife came home at night more
 
 94 
 
 furious than ever against the Teuz-a-pouliet, ac- 
 cusing him of having played her this ill turn on 
 purpose, and fully resolved to be revenged upon 
 him at the earliest opportunity. 
 
 Well, spring drew near, and as this was the 
 time the dwarfs held festival, the Teuz asked 
 leave of Jegu to extend an invitation to all his 
 friends to come and spend the night on the barn- 
 floor, where he might give them a supper and a 
 dance. Jegu was far too much indebted to the 
 dwarf to think of saying no ; and ordered Barbaik 
 to spread over the barn-floor her finest fringed 
 table-cloths, and to serve up a batch of little but- 
 ter-cakes, all the morning and the evening milk, 
 and as many wheaten pancakes as could be turned 
 out in a good day's work. 
 
 Barbaik made no reply, to her husband's great 
 surprise. 
 
 She made the pancakes, prepared the milk, 
 cooked the buttered cakes, and at evening-tide 
 she took them all out to the barn ; but at the 
 same time she spread down, all round about the 
 extended table-cloths, just where the dwarfs were 
 going to place themselves, the ashes she had 
 draAvn smoking from the oven ; so that when the 
 Teuz-a-pouliet and his guests came in to seat 
 themselves, they were every one severely burned, 
 and fled away, uttering loud cries. They soon 
 came back, however, carrying jugs of water, and
 
 95 
 
 so put out the fire ; and then danced round the 
 farm, all singing in an angry tone, 
 
 " Barbe Riou, with dire deceit, 
 Has roasted our poor little feet : 
 Adieu ! far hence away we go ; 
 On this house be grief and woe !" 
 
 And, in fact, they left the country that very morn- 
 ing. Jegu, having lost their help, soon fell into 
 distress and died ; whilst the beautiful Barbaik 
 became a basket-woman at Morlaix market. 
 
 Since then the Teuz have never been seen in 
 these parts. However, there are some who say 
 that all good work-people have to this very day 
 ten dwarfs who toil for them, and not invisibly ; 
 and these are — their ten fingers.
 
 96 
 
 THE SPECTRE LAUNDRESSES. 
 
 The Bretons are born in sin, even as other men, 
 but never have they been wanting in care for the 
 souls of their faithful departed. They take ten- 
 der pity upon those who burn in purgatory, and 
 earnestly strive to redeem them from their fiery 
 trial. Every Sunday, after Mass, they kneel and 
 plead for their suffering souls upon the very earth 
 in which their poor bodies are mouldering away. 
 
 It is in the Black Month,* as they call No- 
 vember, that they especially attach themselves to 
 this pious duty. When the Messenger of Winterf 
 arrives, each one bethinks himself of those who 
 are gone to the judgment-seat of God. Masses 
 are said for them at the altar of the Dead ; in 
 their behalf are tapers kindled, and vows made 
 to saints in highest veneration ; little children 
 are taken to offer their innocent prayers upon the 
 grave-stones ; and after Vespers the priest comes 
 out of church to bless the earth to which their 
 dust has been committed. 
 
 On this night also is it that our Lord vouch- 
 safes some respite to their sufferings, and permits 
 
 * Miz-duy Breton name of November, 
 t A name given to All Saints.
 
 97 
 
 them to return once more and pay a visit to the 
 hearth-stones of their former homes. Then are 
 the dead as numerous in the homesteads of the 
 living as the yellow leaves that rustle in the deep 
 dry lanes ; and therefore it is that all good Chris- 
 tians leave the hoard spread and the fire blazing, 
 that the unwonted guests may, if they will, re- 
 fresh themselves. 
 
 But if it is so with all who are truly devoted 
 to the service of the Blessed Mother and her di- 
 vine Son, there are also children of the Black 
 Angel (" I'ange noir"), who forget those that were 
 once nearest to their hearts. Wilherm Postik 
 was one of these. His father had died without 
 desiring to receive the last Sacraments ; and, as 
 the proverb has it, Kadiou is his father's own 
 son. Wilherm gave himself up, body and soul, to 
 forbidden pleasures, dancing during Mass-time, 
 whenever he could find an opportunity, and drink- 
 ing with rascally horse-dealers when he should 
 have been in church. Nevertheless, God had not 
 left him without enough of warnings. Within 
 the same year had his mother, his sisters, and 
 his wife been carried off by a contagious disease. 
 Many a time, too, had the good cure exposed to 
 him his evil deeds, showing him that he was a 
 scandal to the whole parish, and urging him to 
 repentance ; but all was in vain. 
 
 Meanwhile the fine weather went by. The 
 
 H
 
 98 
 
 feast of All Souls arrived, and all good Chris- 
 tians, clad in decent mourning, repaired to church 
 to pray for the faithful departed. But for Wil- 
 herm, he dressed himself out in his best, and set 
 out for the neighbouring town, where he was 
 sure to find plenty of reprobate sailors and reck- 
 less women. 
 
 All the time devoted by others to the solace 
 of the suffering souls he spent there in drinking, 
 gamblin<r, and singing vile songs ; nor did he 
 think of returning till close upon midnight, when 
 every body else had gone home wearied with 
 iniquity. For him, he had a frame of iron for 
 sinful pleasures ; and he quitted the drinking- 
 house as well disposed for a fresh bout as when 
 he entered it. 
 
 Heated with drink, he went along, singing at 
 the top of his voice, though his songs were such 
 as the boldest are apt to give out in an under- 
 tone. He passed the wayside crosses without 
 dropping his voice or uncovering his head, and 
 struck out right and left with his walking-stick 
 amongst the tufts of broom, regardless of the holy 
 dead who thronged every path. 
 
 At last the road divided, giving him his choice 
 of two ways homeward ; the one longer about, but 
 safer, under the blessing of God, the other more 
 direct, but haunted by spirits. Many a one in 
 passing by that way had heard noises and seen
 
 99 
 
 sights that could be only told of in a cheerful 
 assembly, and within arm's-length of the holy- 
 water stoup. But Wilherm feared nothing ; so he 
 struck at once into the shorter path, at a pace 
 that made his heavy shoes ring against the stones. 
 
 Neither moon nor stars cheered the night, the 
 leaves trooped before the driving wind, the brooks 
 trickled dismally adown the hill-sides, the bushes 
 shivered like a man afraid, and through the mid- 
 night stillness the steps of Wilherm echoed like a 
 giant's tread. Yet nothing daunted him, and on 
 he went. 
 
 But as he passed the ruins of the old manor- 
 house, he plainly heard the weather-vane call to 
 him as it creaked, 
 
 " Go back, go hack, go hack !" 
 
 Still Wilherm went on. He came up to the 
 waterfall, and the water murmured, 
 
 " Cross me not, cross me not, cross tne not r 
 
 Wilherm set his foot upon the well-worn step- 
 ping stones, and crossed the stream. He came to 
 an old hollow oak-tree, and the wind that whistled 
 in its branches cried, 
 
 "Stay here, stay here, stay here !" 
 
 But he struck his staff against the dead tree 
 in passing, and hurried onwards. 
 
 At last he came into the haunted vale, and 
 midnight struck from the three parish -church, 
 towers. Wilherm began to whistle a jovial air ;
 
 100 
 
 but just as he came to the fourth verse, he heard 
 the sound of tireless wheels, and saw a cart ap- 
 proaching covered with a funeral pall. 
 
 Wilherm knew it for a hearse. It was drawn 
 by six black horses, and driven by Ankou* him- 
 self, with an iron whip in his hand, and ever 
 crying as he went, 
 
 " Turn aside, or I turn thee back \" 
 
 Wilherm gave him way without being dis- 
 concerted. 
 
 " What are you doing here, Squire White ?"1 
 he questioned boldly. 
 
 " I make prize, and by surprise," replied Ankou. 
 
 " That is to say, you're thievish and treacher- 
 ous," continued Wilherm. 
 
 " I am he that strikes without distinction and 
 without regret." 
 
 " That is to say, a fool and a brute. Then I 
 wonder no more, my fine fellow, that you're a 
 regular inhabitant of the four bishoprics, for to 
 you the whole proverb belongs.;}: But what are 
 you in such haste about to-day V 
 
 * L' Ankou, literally, "the agony;" a name generally 
 given to the spectre of death. 
 
 t M. de Ker-Gioen. A joke on the paleness of death; 
 gwen signifying white. 
 
 X The allusion is to a proverbial Breton verse, in which 
 the inhabitants of the four dioceses are facetiously charac- 
 terised as thievish, false, stupid, and brutal.
 
 101 
 
 " I am going to fetch Wilherm Postik," re- 
 plied the phantom as he passed on. 
 
 The profligate laughed aloud, and went on his 
 way. As he came up to the little sloe -hedge 
 leading to the Avashing-ground, he saw two white 
 females hanging linen on the bushes. 
 
 " On my life," said he, " here are some damsels 
 not much afraid of the night-dews ! What are 
 you about here at this time, my little doves ?" 
 
 " We wash, we dry, we sew !" replied the two 
 women both at once. 
 
 " But what V asked the young man. 
 
 " The winding-sheet of one that yet walks and 
 speaks." 
 
 " A corpse ! Pardieu ! Tell me his name." 
 
 " Wilherm Postik." 
 
 Louder than before laughed Wilherm, and 
 went down the little rugged path. 
 
 But as he went on he heard more and more 
 distinctly the beetle of the spectre laundresses 
 striking on the douez* stones, and ere long they 
 themselves were to be seen, beating at their 
 death-shrouds, and chanting the sorrowful refrain: 
 
 " If no good soul our hands will stay, 
 We must toil till judgment-day ; 
 In stormy wind, or clear moonlight, 
 We must wash the death-shroud white." 
 
 • Douez signifies in Breton the moat of a fortified town ; 
 Dut as these moats were formerly fuU of water, and served
 
 103 
 
 As soon as they perceived this boon compa- 
 nion, they all rushed forward with loud cries, 
 offering each her winding-sheet, that he might 
 help them to wring out the water. 
 
 " Amongst friends we must not scruple to do 
 a good turn," replied Wilherm gaily ; " but one 
 at a time, my pretty laundresses, a man has but 
 two hands." 
 
 So laying down his walking-stick, he took the 
 end of the shroud offered by one of the ghosts, 
 taking care to wring the same way that she did ; 
 for he had heard of old that this was the only 
 way to escape being shivered to atoms. 
 
 But whilst they thus wrung the winding-sheet, 
 behold, the other spectres surrounded Wilherm, 
 who recognised amongst them his aunt, his wife, 
 his mother, and his sisters, who cried aloud, 
 
 " A thousand curses upon him who leaves his 
 own flesh and blood to suffer torments ! A thou- 
 sand curses I" 
 
 And they shook their streaming locks, and 
 whirled aloft their snow-white beetles ; while from 
 all the douez of the valley, along the hedgerows, 
 and floating over the commons far and wide, there 
 came the sound of ghostly voices echoing the 
 same cry, 
 
 " A thousand curses ! a thousand curses I" 
 
 the purposes of the washerwomen, the name douez has gra- 
 dually been appropriated to the washing-places.
 
 103 
 
 Wilherm, beside himself with terror, felt his 
 hair stand up on end, and, forgetting in his con- 
 fusion the precaution hitherto observed, he began 
 to wring the contrary way. In the same instant 
 the winding-sheet grasped his hands as in a vice, 
 and he fell, brayed by the iron arms of the spec- 
 tre laundress. 
 
 A young girl of Henvik, named Fantik-ar- 
 Fur, passing at daybreak near the douez, saw 
 Wilherm stretched upon the blue stones. Think- 
 ing that he had lain down there to sleep whilst 
 tipsy, the child drew near to wake him with a 
 sprig of broom ; but finding he remained motion- 
 less, she took fright and ran to the village to tell 
 the news. 
 
 A number of the inhabitants came with the 
 cure, the sexton, and the notary, who Avas mayor 
 of the place. The body was taken up, placed 
 on a wagon, and drawn home by oxen ; but the 
 blessed candles that were lighted continually 
 went out, a token of the fearful fate that had 
 overtaken Wilherm Postik. 
 
 So his body was deposited outside the church- 
 yard walls, in the resting-place of dogs and re- 
 probates. 
 
 The belief in spectre laundresses is universal in Brittany.
 
 104 
 
 ROBIN REDBREAST. 
 
 Long, long ago, ere tlie acorns were sown which 
 have since furnished timber for the oldest vessels 
 of the port of Brest, there lived in the parish of 
 Guirek a poor widow called Ninorc'h Madek, 
 Her father, who was very wealthy and of noble 
 race, had left at his death a manor-house, with a 
 farm, a mill, and a forge, twelve horses and twice 
 as many oxen, twelve cows and ten times as many 
 sheep, to say nothing of corn and flax. 
 
 But Ninorc'h was a helpless widow, and her 
 brothers took the whole for themselves. Perrik, 
 the eldest, kept the house, the farm, and the 
 horses ; Fanche, the second, took the mill and 
 the cows ; whilst the third, whose name was 
 Riwal, had the oxen, the forge, and the sheep. 
 Nothing was left for Ninorc'h but a doorless 
 shed on the open heath, which had served to 
 shelter the sick cattle. 
 
 However, as she was getting together her 
 little matter of furniture, in order to take pos- 
 session of her new abode, Fanche pretended to 
 take pity upon her, and said, 
 
 " Come, I will deal with you like a brother 
 and a Christian. Here is a black cow ; she has 
 never come to much good, and, indeed, gives
 
 105 
 
 scarce milk enoun;h to feed a new-born babe ; 
 but you may take her with you, if you will, and 
 May-flower can look after her upon the common." 
 
 May-flower* was the widow's daughter, now 
 in her eleventh year, and had been called after 
 the colourless blossom of the thickets from her 
 unusually pale complexion. 
 
 So Ninorc'h went away with her pallid little 
 girl, who led the poor lean cow by an old cord, 
 and she sent them out upon the common together. 
 
 There May-flower stayed all day, watching her 
 black cow, which with much ado contrived to 
 pick a little grass between the stones. She spent 
 her time in making little crosses with blossoms of 
 the broom,t or in repeating aloud her Rosary and 
 her favourite hymns. 
 
 One day, as she was singing the " Ave Maris 
 Stella," as she had heard it at Vespers in the 
 church of Guirek, all at once she noticed a little 
 bird perched upon one of the flower-crosses she 
 had set in the earth. He was Avarbling sweetly, 
 and turned his head from side to side, looking s^ 
 her as if he longed to speak. Not a little sur- 
 
 * Spern-gwenn ("lepine blauche"), to this day a family 
 name in Brittany. 
 
 t All the Breton shepherds make these crosses with 
 twigs of furze, on the thorns of which they stick daisies 
 and broom-blossoms ; whole rows of these flowery crosses 
 may often be seen along the ditches.
 
 106 
 
 prised, she gently drew near and listened, but 
 without being able to distinguish any meaning 
 in his song. In vain he sang louder, flapped 
 his wings, and fluttered about before May-flower. 
 Not a whit the wiser was she for all this ; and 
 yet such pleasure did she take in Avatching and 
 listening to him, that night came on without her 
 being able to think of any thing else. At last 
 the bird flew away ; and when she looked up to 
 see what had become of him, she saw the stars 
 twinkling in the sky. 
 
 With all speed she started off to look for her 
 cow, but to her dismay it was nowhere to be 
 found upon the common. In vain she called 
 aloud, in vain she beat the bushes, in vain she 
 went down into each hollow where the rain- 
 water had formed a pool. At last she heard her 
 mother's voice, calling her, as if some great mis- 
 fortune had happened. All in a fright, she ran 
 up to her, and there, at the edge of the heath, on 
 the way homeward, she found the widow beside 
 all that remained of the poor cow, — her horns, 
 that is, and her bones, the latter well picked by 
 the wolves, which had sallied forth from the 
 neighbouring woods and made a meal of her. 
 
 At this sight May-flower felt her blood run 
 cold. She burst into tears, for she loved the 
 black cow she had tended so long, and falling on 
 her knees exclaimed,
 
 107 
 
 " Blessed Virgin, why did you not let me see 
 the wolf? I would have scared him away with 
 the sign of the cross ; I would have repeated the 
 charm that is taught to shepherd-boys who keep 
 their flocks upon the mountains, — 
 
 * Art thou wolf, St. Herve shend* thee ! 
 Art thou Satan, God defend me !' "+ 
 
 The widow, who was a very saint for piety 
 and resignation, seeing the sorrow of the little 
 girl, sought to comfort her, saying, 
 
 " It is not well to weep for the cow as for a 
 fellow-creature, my poor child ; if the wolves and 
 wicked men conspire against us, the Lord God 
 will be on our side. Come, then, help me up 
 with my bundle of heath, and let us go home." 
 
 May-flower did as she said, but sighed at every 
 step, and the big tears trickled down her cheeks. 
 
 " My poor cow !" said she to herself, " my poor, 
 good, gentle cow ! and just, too, as she was be- 
 ginning to fatten a little." 
 
 The little girl had no heart for supper, and 
 many times awakened in the night, fancying that 
 
 * Shend, ' subdue. ' 
 
 t This form of exorcism is supposed to originate in a 
 story related of St. Herve. A wolf having devoured an ass 
 belonging to his uncle, the saint compelled the savage beast 
 to dwell peaceably thenceforward in the same shed with the 
 sheep, and to perform all the duties of the defunct ass. A 
 similar story is told of St. Malo, another Breton saint.
 
 108 
 
 she heard the black cow lowino; at the door. 
 With very restlessness she rose before the dawn, 
 and ran out upon the common, barefooted and 
 but half-dressed. There, at the selfsame spot, 
 appeared the little bird again, perched as before 
 on her broom-flower cross. Again he sang, and 
 seemed to call her. But, alas, she was as little 
 able as on the preceding evening to understand 
 him, and was turning away in vexation, when 
 she thought she saw a piece of gold glittering on 
 the ground. To try what it really was, she moved 
 it with her foot ; but, lo, it was the gold-herb ; 
 and no sooner had she touched it than she dis- 
 tinctly understood the language of the little 
 bird,* saying in his warbling, 
 
 " JMay-flower, I wish thee well. May-flower, 
 listen to me.'' 
 
 " Who are you V said May-flower, wondering 
 within herself that she could understand the lan- 
 guage of an uubaptised creature. 
 
 * The legend of the gold-herb (which must be gather- 
 ed, accordiug to common credence, barefooted, en chemise, 
 without the aid of any iron tool, and whilst one is in a 
 state of grace) comes evidently from the Druids. It is the 
 selaffe of the ancients, spoken of by Pliny (lib. xiv.), and is 
 said by the Bretons to glitter like gold before the eyes oi 
 those who at the moment may fulfil the conditions for per- 
 ceiving it, and who, by touching it with the foot, are in- 
 stantly enabled to understand the language of all animals, 
 and to converse with them.
 
 109 
 
 "I am Robin Redbreast," returned the bird. 
 " It was I that followed the Saviour on His way to 
 Calvary, and broke a thorn from the crown that 
 was tearing His brow.* To recompense this act, 
 it was granted to me by God the Father that I 
 should live until the day of judgment, and that 
 every year I might bestow a fortune upon one 
 poor girl. This year I have chosen you." 
 
 " Can this be true, Robin Redbreast ?" cried 
 May-flower, in a transport of delight. "And shall 
 I have a silver cross for my neck, and be able to 
 wear wooden shoes ?" 
 
 "A cross of gold shall you have, and silken 
 slippers shall you wear, like a noble damsel," re- 
 plied Robin Redbreast. 
 
 " But what must I do, dear kind Robin 1" said 
 the little maid. 
 
 " Only follow me." 
 
 It may well be supposed that May-flower had 
 no objection to make ; so Robin Redbreast flew 
 before, and she ran after him. 
 
 On they went ; across the heath, through the 
 copses, and over the fields of rye, till at last they 
 came to the open downs over against the Seven 
 Isles. There Robin stopped, and said to the little 
 girl, 
 
 " Seest thou aught on the sands down there ?" 
 
 * The tradition of the redbreast, who broke a thorn from 
 the crown of our Lord, is current throughout Brittany.
 
 110 
 
 " I see," replied May-flower, " a great pair of 
 beechen shoes that the fire has never scorched, 
 and a holly-staff that has not been hacked by the 
 sickle/' 
 
 " Put on the shoes, and take up the staff." 
 
 It was done. 
 
 " Now walk upon the sea to the first island, 
 and go round it till thou shalt come to a rock on 
 ■which grow sea-green rushes." 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 " Gather some of the rushes, and twist them 
 into a cord." 
 
 " Well, and then ?" 
 
 " Then strike the rock with the holly-stafi' 
 and there will come forth from it a cow. Make a 
 halter of the rushen cord, and lead her home to 
 console thy mother for the one just lost." 
 
 All that Robin Redbreast had told her, May- 
 flower did. She walked upon the sea ; she made 
 the cord of rushes ; she struck the rock, and there 
 came out from it a cow, with eyes as soft as a 
 stag-hound's, and a skin sleek as that of the mole 
 that burrows in the meadoAvs. May-flower led 
 her home to her poor mother, whose joy now was 
 almost greater than her former sorrow. 
 
 But what were her sensations when she began 
 to milk Mor Vyoc'h !* (for so had Robin Red- 
 breast named the creature). Behold, the milk 
 * Mor Yyocli siguifies Sea-cow.
 
 Ill 
 
 flowed on and on beneath her fingers like water 
 from a S23ring ! 
 
 Ninorc'h had soon filled all the earthen ves- 
 sels in the house, and then all those of wood, but 
 still the milk flowed on. 
 
 " Now, holy Mother save us I" cried the 
 widoAV, " certainly this beast has drunk of the 
 waters of Languengar."* 
 
 In fact, the milk of Mor Vyoc'h was inex- 
 haustible ; she had already yielded enough to 
 satisfy every babe in Cornouaille. 
 
 In a little time nothing was talked of through- 
 out the country but the widow's cow, and people 
 crowded from all parts to see it. The rector of 
 Peros-Guirek came among the rest, to see whe- 
 ther it were not a snare of the evil one ; but 
 after he had laid his stole upon Mor Vyoc'h's 
 head, he pronounced her clear of all suspi- 
 cion. 
 
 Before long all the richest farmers were per- 
 suading Ninorc'h to sell her cow, each one bid- 
 ding against the other for so invaluable a beast ; 
 her brother Perrik among the rest. 
 
 " Come," said he, " I am your brother ; as a 
 good Christian you must give me the preference. 
 Let me have Mor Vyoc'h, and I will give you in 
 
 * The Breton peasants believe that the fountain of Lan- 
 guengar has the property of promoting the flow of milk iu 
 those nurses who drink of it.
 
 112 
 
 excliange as many cows as it takes tailors to 
 make a man."* 
 
 " Is that your Christian dealing ?" answered 
 the widow. " Nine cows for Mor Yyoc'h ! She is 
 worth all the cows in the country, far and near. 
 With her milk I could supply all the markets in 
 the bishoprics of Treguier and Cornouaille, from 
 Dinan to Carhaix." 
 
 " Well, sister, only let me have her," replied 
 Perrik, " and I will give up to you our father's 
 farm, on which you were born, with all the fields, 
 ploughs, and horses." 
 
 This proposal Ninorc'h accepted, and was 
 forthwith put in possession, turning up a sod in 
 the meadows, taking a draught of water from the 
 well, and kindling a fire on the hearth ; besides 
 cutting a tuft of hair from the horses' tails in 
 token of ownership. -j- She then delivered Mor 
 
 * In Brittany, as in England, it takes nine tailors to 
 make a man. 
 
 t This form of taking possession is extremely ancient. 
 In all the legislative systems of " the ancient world" trans- 
 fer of landed property was effected by symbolical tradition ; 
 that is, by the handing over to the new owner of some 
 visible and palpable portion or symbol of the land itself. 
 At Rome, the sale of a field takes place standing on a turf 
 cut from the field itself, which is handed over to the pur- 
 chaser as a symbol of his new possession. In an old deed 
 of 828 occurs the following : "I make over the underwrit- 
 ten goods and lands to the Church of St. Mary. And I
 
 113 
 
 Vyoc'h to Perrik, wlio led her away to a house 
 which he had at some distance, toAvards Menez- 
 Bree. 
 
 A day of tears and sadness was that for May- 
 flower ; and as at night she went the round of 
 the stalls to see that all was right, she could not 
 help again and again murmuring, as she filled 
 the mangers, 
 
 " Alas, Mor Yyoc'h is gone ! I shall never 
 see Mor Vyoc'h again." 
 
 With this lament still on her lips, she sud- 
 denly heard a lowing behind her, in which, as 
 by virtue of the gold-herb her ears were now 
 open to the language of all animals, she distinctly 
 made out these words, 
 
 " Here I am again, my little mistress." 
 
 May-flower turned round in astonishment, and 
 there indeed was Mor Vyoc'h. 
 
 " Oh, can this indeed be you ?" cried the little 
 girl. " And what, then, has brought you back ?" 
 
 " I cannot belong to your uncle Perrik," said 
 Mor Vyoc'h, " for my nature forbids me to remain 
 
 make legal cession by straw and knife, glove and turf, and 
 branch of tree ; and so I put myself out, expel, and make 
 myself absent." — D. Calmet, Histoire cle Lorraine, Preuves, 
 p. 624. And as Brittany is the very chosen home of old cus- 
 toms, it has happened that even quite lately, at a farm 
 near Leon, all these forms of taking possession were gone 
 through, not as having any legal efficacy, but in compli- 
 ance with ancient usage.
 
 1J4 
 
 with such as are not in a state of grace ; so 
 I am come back to be with you again as be- 
 fore." 
 
 " But then my mother must give back the 
 farm, the fields, and all that she has received for 
 you." 
 
 "Not so; for it was already hers by right, 
 and had been unjustly taken from her by your 
 uncle." 
 
 " But he will come to see if you are here, and 
 will know you again." 
 
 " Go and gather three leaves of the cross- 
 wort,* and I will tell you what to do." 
 
 May-flower went, and soon returned with the 
 three leaves. 
 
 " Now," said Mor Vyoc'h, " pass those leaves 
 over me, from my horns to my tail, and say ' St. 
 Ronan of Ii^eland P three times." 
 
 May-flower did so ; nnd as she called on the 
 saint for the third time, lo, the cow became a 
 beautiful horse. The little girl was lost in won- 
 der. 
 
 " Now," said the creature to her, " your uncle 
 Perrik cannot possibly know me again ; for I am 
 no longer Mor Vyoc'h, but Marc'h-Mor."*|* 
 
 On hearing what had come to pass, the widow 
 was greatly rejoiced ; and early on the morrow 
 proceeded to make trial of her horse with a load 
 
 * The vervain. t March-Mor, literally, Sea-horse.
 
 115 
 
 of corn for Treguier. But guess her astonishment 
 •when she found that the more sacks were laid on 
 Marc'h-Mor's back the longer it grew ; so that he 
 alone could carry as much wheat as all the horses 
 in the parish. 
 
 The tale of the widow's wonderful horse was 
 soon noised about the neighbourhood, and among 
 the rest her brother Fanche heard of it. He 
 therefore lost no time in proceeding to the farm ; 
 and when he had seen Marc'h-Mor, begged his 
 sister to part with him, which, hoAvever, she 
 would by no means consent to do till Fanche 
 had offered her in exchange his cows and his 
 mill, with all the pigs that he was fattening 
 there. 
 
 The bargain concluded, Ninorc'h took posses- 
 sion of her new property, as she had done at the 
 farm ; and Fanche led away Marc'h-Mor. 
 
 But in the evening there he was again ; and 
 again May-flower gathered three leaves of cross- 
 wort, stroked him over with them three times 
 from his ears to his tail, repeating each time St. 
 Ronan of Ireland ! as she had done before to Mor 
 Vyoc'h. And, lo, in a moment the horse changed 
 into a sheep covered with wool as long as hemp, 
 as red as scarlet, and as fine as dressed flax. 
 
 Full of admiration at this new miracle, the 
 widotv came to behold it ; and no sooner was she 
 within sight than she called to May-flower,
 
 116 
 
 " Run and fetch a pair of shears ; for the poor 
 creature cannot bear this weight of wool." 
 
 But when she began to shear Mor-Vawd, she 
 found the wool grow as fast as she cut it off ; so 
 that he alone far out-valued all the flocks of 
 Arhez. 
 
 Riwal, who chanced to come by at that mo- 
 ment, was witness of the wonder ; and then and 
 there parted with his forge, his sheep-walks, and 
 all his sheep, to obtain possession of the wonder- 
 ful sheep. 
 
 But see ! As he was leading his new pur- 
 chase home along the sea-shore, the sheep sud- 
 denly plunged in the water, swam to the smallest 
 of the seven isles, and passed into a chasm of the 
 rocks, which opened to receive it, and straight- 
 way closed again. 
 
 This time May-flower expected him back at 
 the usual hour in vain. Neither that night nor 
 on the morrow did he revisit the farm. 
 
 The little girl ran to the common. There she 
 found Robin Redbreast, who thus spoke, before he 
 flew away for ever : 
 
 " I have been waiting for you, my little lady. 
 The sheep is gone, and will return no more. 
 Your uncles have been punished after their de- 
 serts. For you, you are now a rich heiress, and 
 may wear a cross of gold and silken slippers, as 
 I promised you. My work here is done, and I
 
 117 
 
 am about to fly away far hence. Only, do you 
 remember always, that you have been poor, and 
 that it was one of God's little birds that made 
 you rich." 
 
 To prove her gratitude, May-flower built a 
 chapel on the heath, on that very spot where 
 E.obin Redbreast first addressed her. And the 
 old men, from whom our fathers heard this tale, 
 could remember lighting the altar-candles there 
 when they were little boys.
 
 118 
 
 COMORRE. 
 
 In the old times, it is said that the city of Vannes 
 was far larger and finer than it is in our days, 
 and that instead of a prefect, it was ruled by a 
 king, whose will was law. I do not know what 
 his name was; but from all I have heard, it 
 seems that he was a man who lived in the fear of 
 God, and of whom no one had ever found occasion 
 to speak an evil word. 
 
 He had been early left a widower; and he 
 lived happily with his only daughter, said to be 
 the most beautiful creature in the whole world. 
 She was called Tryphyna, and those who knew 
 her have asserted that she came of age unsullied 
 by a single mortal sin. So that the king her 
 father would have willingly sacrificed his horses, 
 castles, and farms, rather than see Tryphyna made 
 unhappy. 
 
 However, it came to pass, that one day am- 
 bassadors from Cornouaille were announced. They 
 came on the part of Comorre, a powerful prince 
 of those times, who ruled over the land of Black- 
 Wheat as Tryphyna's father ruled that of the 
 White.* 
 
 * The Breton name for Vannes, Gwen-ed, signifies liter- 
 ally White Wheat.
 
 119 
 
 After offering presents of honey, flax, and a 
 dozen of little pigs, to the king, they informed 
 him that their master had visited the last fair at ■ 
 Vannes disguised as a soldier, and there behold- 
 ing the beauty and modesty of the young princess, 
 he had determined at all hazards to have her in 
 marriage. 
 
 This proposal filled both the king and Tryphyna 
 with great grief; for the Count Comorre was a 
 giant, and said to be the wickedest man that had 
 ever been on the earth since the days of Cain. 
 
 From his earliest youth he had been used to 
 find his only pleasure in working mischief; and 
 so malicious was he, that his mother herself had 
 been accustomed to run and ring the alarm-bell 
 whenever he left the castle, to warn the country 
 people to take care of themselves. When older, 
 and his own master, his cruelty was greater still. 
 It was said that one morning, on his way out, he 
 tried his gun upon a lad tending a colt at pasture, 
 and killed him. And at other times, when return- 
 ins unsuccessful from the chase, he would let 
 loose his dogs upon the poor peasants in the fields, 
 and suffer them to be pulled down like beasts of 
 prey. But, most horrible of all, he had married 
 four wives in succession, each of whom had died off 
 suddenly without receiving the last Sacraments ; 
 and it was even said that he had made away 
 with them by the knife, fire, water, or poison.
 
 120 
 
 So the King of Vannes replied to the am- 
 bassadors that his daughter was too young and 
 too weak in health to think of marrying. But 
 Comorre's people answered roughly, after their 
 manner, that the Count Comorre would listen to 
 no such excuses, and that they had received orders, 
 if the young princess was not sent back with them, 
 to declare war against the King of Vannes. The 
 king replied, that they must do as they liked 
 about that. Then the most aged among the envoys 
 lighted a handful of straw, which he flung to the 
 winds, declaring that thus should the anger of 
 Comorre pass over the country of White-Wheat ; 
 and so they departed.* 
 
 Tryphyna's father, being a courageous man, 
 did not allow himself to be disheartened by this 
 threat, and called together all the soldiers he 
 could muster to defend his territories. 
 
 But in a few days he heard that the Count of 
 Cornouaille was advancing upon Vannes with a 
 
 * This form of declaring war, preserved by tradition, 
 is curious, and, as far as we know, peculiar to Brittany. 
 Amongst the ancient Romans they cast upon the enemy's 
 territory a javelin scorched at the fire ; in the middle ages 
 the iron gauntlet was thrown, or the finger was gnawed ; 
 the savages of North America sent, like the Scythians! 
 bundles of arrows, the number of which indicated that of 
 the combatants ; but burning straw flung upon the enemy's 
 land is a peculiar symbol, which we have never noticed 
 elsewhere.
 
 121 
 
 powerful army ; and it was not long before he 
 came in sight with trumpets and cannons. Then 
 the king put himself at the head of his people, 
 and the battle was on the point of beginning ; 
 when St Veltas* came to find Try])hyna, who was 
 praying in her oratory. 
 
 The saint wore the cloak which had served 
 him as a vessel for crossing the sea, and carried 
 the walking-staiF which he had fastened to it 
 as a mast to catch the wind. A halo of glory 
 hovered round his brow. He announced to the 
 young princess that the men of Vannes and Cor- 
 nouaille were on the point of shedding each 
 other's blood, and asked her whether she would 
 not stay the death of so many Christians by con- 
 senting to become the wife of Count Comorre. 
 
 " Alas, then, God demands from me the death 
 of all my peace and happiness/' cried the young 
 girl, weeping. " Why am I not a beggar ? I could 
 then at least be wedded to the beggar of my 
 choice. Ah, if it is indeed the will of Grod that 
 I espouse this giant, whom I dread so much, say 
 for me, holy man, the Office for the Dead ; for the 
 count will kill me, as he has his other wives." 
 
 But St. Veltas replied, 
 
 " Fear nothing, Tryphyna. See here this ring 
 of silver, white as milk ; it shall serve you as a 
 warning ; for so surely as Comorre is plotting any 
 * The Breton name of St. Gildas.
 
 122 
 
 thing against you, it will become as black as the 
 crow's wing. Take courage, then, and save the 
 Bretons from death." 
 
 The young princess, reassured by this present 
 of the ring, consented to St. Veltas's request. 
 
 Then the saint hurried without loss of time 
 towards the opposed armies, that he might an- 
 nounce the good tidings to their chiefs. The King 
 of Vannes, notwithstanding his daughter's reso- 
 lution, was very unwilling to consent to the mar- 
 riage ; but Comorre promised so fairly, that at 
 last he accepted him as son-in-law. 
 
 The nuptials were celebrated with such festivi- 
 ties as have never been seen since within the two 
 dioceses. The first day six thousand noble guests 
 sat down to table ; and on the second they re- 
 ceived as many poor, whom the bride and bride- 
 goom, forgetful of their rank, waited on at table, 
 with napkins on their arms.* Then there was 
 dancing, at which all the musicians of Lower 
 Brittany were engaged ; and wrestling-matches, in 
 which the men of Brevelay contended with those 
 of Cornouaille. 
 
 At last, when all was over, every one went 
 home to his own country ; and Comorre carried 
 off with him his young bride, as a sparrow- 
 hawk that has pounced upon a poor little yellow- 
 hammer. 
 
 * This custom still exists in Brittany.
 
 123 
 
 However, during the first few months his affec- 
 tion for Tryphyna softened him more than might 
 have been expected. The castle-dungeons re- 
 mained empty, and the gibbets held no pasture 
 for foul birds of prey. The count's people whis- 
 pered low, 
 
 " What ails our lord, then, that he thirsts no 
 more for tears and blood ?" But those who knew 
 him better waited and said nothing. Tryphyna 
 herself, notwithstanding the count's kindness to- 
 wards her, could never feel easy or happy in her 
 mind. Every day she went down to the castle- 
 chapel, and there, praying on the tombs of Co- 
 morre's four dead wives, she besought God to pre- 
 serve her from a violent death. 
 
 About this time a grand assembly of Breton 
 princes took place at Rennes, and Comorre was 
 obliged to join it. He gave into Tryphyna's keep- 
 ing all the castle keys, even those of the cellars ; 
 told her to amuse herself as she liked best, and 
 set out with a great retinue. 
 
 It was five months before he returned, full of 
 anxiety to see Tryphyna, of Avhom he had thought 
 often during his absence. And in his haste, un- 
 willing to lose time by announcing his arrival, 
 he rushed up into her room, where she was at 
 that moment engaged in making an infant's cap, 
 trimmed with silver-lace. 
 
 On seeing the cap, Comorre turned pale, and
 
 124 
 
 asked for what it was designed. The countess, 
 thinking to rejoice his heart, assured him that 
 they would shortly have a child ; but at this news 
 the Prince of Cornouaille drew back in horror, 
 and after looking at Tryphyna with a dreadful 
 countenance, went suddenly out, not speaking a 
 word. 
 
 The princess might have taken this for one of 
 the count's frequent caprices, had she not per- 
 ceived, on casting down her eyes, that the silver 
 ring had turned black. She uttered a cry of ter- 
 ror ; for she remembered the words of St. Veltas, 
 and knew that she must be in imminent peril. 
 But she knew not wherefore, neither could she 
 tell how to escape it. Poor woman ! all day long, 
 and during part of the night, she employed her- 
 self in pondering what could be the reason of the 
 count's displeasure; and at last, her heart growing 
 heavier, she went down into the chapel to pray. 
 
 But scarcely had she finished her rosary, and 
 risen to depart, when the hour of midnight struck. 
 At that instant she beheld the four grave-stones 
 of Comorre's four wives rise slowly up, and they 
 themselves come out swathed in their funeral 
 shrouds. 
 
 Tryphyna, more dead than alive, would have 
 escaped ; but the phantoms called to her : 
 
 " Take care, poor lost one ; Comorre waits to 
 kill thee."
 
 125 
 
 " Me I" cried the countess ; " and how have I 
 offended, that he seeks my death V 
 
 " You have told him you will shortly be a 
 mother ; and he knows, thanks to the evil one, 
 that his first child will be his destroyer. There- 
 fore it was that he took our lives also." 
 
 " My God ! and have I fallen into hands so 
 cruel V cried Tryphyna, weeping. " If it is so, 
 what hope remains for me ? what can I do ?" 
 
 " Go back to your father in the land of White- 
 Wheat," said the phantoms. 
 
 " How can I fly V returned the countess ; " the 
 giant dog of Comorre guards the gate." 
 
 "Give to him this poison, which killed me," 
 said the first. 
 
 " How can I get down the high wall ?" asked 
 the young wife. 
 
 " Let yourself down by this cord, which stran- 
 gled me," replied the second. 
 
 " But who will direct me through the dark- 
 ness?" asked the princess. 
 
 " This fire, which consumed me," replied the 
 third. 
 
 " How can I take so long a journey ?" once 
 more asked Tryphyna. 
 
 "Make use of this staff, which crushed my 
 temples," said the last. 
 
 Comorre's wife took the staff, the torch, the 
 cord, and the poison. She silenced the dog, she
 
 126 
 
 scaled the lofty wall, she penetrated the dark- 
 ness, and took the road to Vannes, where her 
 father dwelt. 
 
 Comorre, not being able to find her the next 
 morning when he rose, sent his page to search 
 for her in every chamber ; but the page returned 
 with the tidings that Tryphyna was no longer in 
 the castle. 
 
 Then the count went up the donjon -tower, 
 and looked out to the four winds. 
 
 To the north he saw a raven that croaked ; 
 to the sunrise a swallow on the wing ; to the 
 south a wailing sea-mew; and to the west a turtle- 
 dove that sped away. 
 
 He instantly exclaimed that Tryphyna was in 
 that direction ; and having his horse saddled, set 
 out in pursuit. 
 
 His unfortunate wife was still upon the bor- 
 der of the wood which surrounded the count's 
 castle ; but she was warned of his approach by 
 seeing the ring grow black. Then she turned 
 aside over the common, and came to the cabin of 
 a poor shepherd, whose sole possession was an 
 old magpie hanging in a cage. 
 
 The poor lady lay concealed there the whole 
 day, bemoaning herself and praying ; and when 
 night came on, she once more set forth along the 
 paths which skirt the fields of flax and corn. 
 
 Comorre, who had kept to the high road, could
 
 127 
 
 not find her; and after travelling two days, he re- 
 turned the same way as far as the common. But 
 there, as ill-luck would have it, he entered the 
 shepherd^s hut, and heard the magpie trying to 
 recall the melancholy wailings it had listened 
 to, and murmuring, " Poor Tryphyna ! poor Try- 
 phyna I" Then Comorre knew the countess had 
 passed by that way, and calling his hunting-dog, 
 set him on the track, and began to pursue her. 
 
 Meanwhile Tryphyna, pressed by terror, had 
 walked on unresting, and was already drawing 
 near to Vannes. But at last she felt herself un- 
 able to proceed ; and turning into a wood, lay 
 down upon the grass, where she gave birth to a 
 son miraculously lovely, who was afterwards called 
 St. Trever. 
 
 As she held him in her arms, and wept over 
 him, half sorrowfully and half in joy, she perceived 
 a falcon ornamented with a collar of gold. He 
 was perched upon a neighbouring tree ; and she 
 knew him for her father's bird, the king of the 
 land of White-Wheat. Calling him quickly by 
 his name, the bird came down upon her knees ; 
 and giving him the warning-ring she had re- 
 ceived from St. Veltas, she said, " Fly, falcon, 
 hasten to my father's court, and carry him this 
 ring. When he sees it, he will know I am in ur- 
 gent danger, and will order his soldiers to horse. 
 It is for you to lead them hither to save me."
 
 128 
 
 The bird understood, and taking the ring, 
 flew like a flash of lightning in the direction of 
 Vannes. 
 
 But almost at the same instant Comorre came 
 in sight with his stag-hound, who had incessantly- 
 tracked Tryphyna ; and as she had no longer the 
 ring to forewarn her of approaching danger, she 
 remained unconscious of it till she heard the ty- 
 rant's voice cheering on his dog. 
 
 Terror froze the marrow in her bones, and 
 she had only just time to wrap the infant in her 
 mantle and hide it in the hollow of a tree, when 
 Comorre appeared upon his horse at the entrance 
 of the pathway. 
 
 Seeing Tryphyna, he uttered a cry like that of 
 a wild-beast, and throwing himself upon the un- 
 happy victim, who had sunk upon her knees, he 
 severed her head from her shoulders by one stroke 
 of his hunting-knife. 
 
 Believing himself now at once rid of mother 
 and child, he whistled back his dog, and set off 
 on his return to Cornouaille. 
 
 Now the falcon arrived at the court of the 
 King of Vannes, who was then dining; and hover- 
 ing over the table, let fall the silver ring into his 
 master's cup. He had no sooner recognised it, 
 than he exclaimed : 
 
 " Woe is me, some misfortune must have be- 
 fallen my daughter, since the falcon brings me
 
 129 
 
 back her ring. Let the horses be made ready, 
 and let St. Veltas be our companion ; for I fear we 
 shall but too soon stand in need of his assistance." 
 The servants obeyed promptly ; and the king 
 set forth with the saint, who had come at his 
 prayer, and a numerous retmue. They put their 
 horses to their full speed, and followed the course 
 of the flying falcon, who led them to the glade 
 where lay the dead Tryphyna and her living child. 
 
 The king then threw himself from his horse, 
 and uttered cries that might have made the very 
 oaks to weep ; but St. Veltas silenced him. 
 
 " Plush I" said he, " and join with me in prayer 
 to God ; He can even yet repair all." 
 
 With these words, he knelt down with all those 
 who were present, and after addressing a fervent 
 prayer to Heaven, he said to the dead body, 
 "Arise!" 
 
 Tryphyna obeyed. 
 
 " Take thine head and thy child," added the 
 saint, " and follow us to the castle of Comorre.'^ 
 
 It was done as he commanded. 
 
 Then the terrified escort took horse once more, 
 and spurred onwards towards Cornouaille. But 
 however rapidly they rode, Tryphyna was ever in 
 advance; holding her son upon her left arm, and 
 her head on her right. 
 
 And thus they came before the castle of the 
 murderer. Comorre, who saw them coming, cause*^
 
 130 
 
 the draAvbridge to be raised. St. Veltas drew near 
 the moat, and exclaimed, with a loud voice, 
 
 " Count of Cornouaille, I bring thee back thy 
 wife, such as thy wickedness has made her ; and 
 thy son, as God has bestowed him on thee. Wilt 
 thou receive them beneath thy roof?" 
 
 Comorre was silent. St. Veltas repeated the 
 same words a second, then a third time ; but still 
 no voice replied. Taking, therefore, the infant 
 from his mother's arms, he placed him on the 
 ground. 
 
 Then was beheld a miracle which proved the 
 Omnipotence of God ; for the child walked alone, 
 and boldly, to the edge of the moat, whence gather 
 ing a handful of the sand, he flung it towards the 
 castle, crying out, 
 
 "God is just!" 
 
 At that instant the towers shook with a great 
 tumult, the walls gaped vpen, and the whole castle 
 sank down in ruins, burying the Count of Cor- 
 nouaille, and all those who had abetted him in 
 sin. 
 
 St. Veltas then replaced the head of Try- 
 phyna on her shoulders, and laying his hands 
 upon her, the holy woman came back to life ; to 
 the great content of the King of Vannes, and of 
 all who were there present.
 
 131 
 
 Note. 
 
 According to the legend of Albert de Morlaix, Coinorre 
 was not buried in the castle ruins, but succeeded in making 
 his escape; but, at the instance of Guerok, the Breton 
 Bishops met in council " to cut off this rotten branch from 
 the body of the Church. They assembled at the mountain 
 called Meuez-Brec, near Louargat, between Belle Isle and 
 Guingamp, not daring to meet in any town, through the terror 
 inspired by this tyrant ; who, having killed King Johava, 
 and his sou Jugduval, did what he pleased throughout the 
 whole of the Low Country" {Basse Bretagne). 
 
 The Bishops thundered from their place of meeting a 
 deadly excommunication against Comorre ; who shortly after, 
 according to the historian Le Bault, suffered the punish- 
 ment of Arius ; or, as others say, " vomited forth at the 
 same instant his blood and his soul."
 
 132 
 
 TUE GHOAC'H OF THE ISLE OF LOK.* 
 
 Every one who knows the land of the Church 
 fLanillis), knows also that it is one of the loveliest 
 parishes in the diocese of Leon. To say nothing 
 of green crops and corn, its orchards are famed 
 from all time for apples sweeter than the honey 
 of Sizun, and plum-trees of which every blossom 
 ripens into fruit. As for the marriageable maidens, 
 they are all models of discretion and housewifery; 
 at least so say their nearest relations, who of course 
 know them best. 
 
 In olden times, when miracles were as com.- 
 
 * The name Groac'h, or Grac'h, means literally old 
 woman ; and was given to the Druidesses, who had esta- 
 blished themselves in an island off the south-west coast of 
 Brittany, called thence the isle of Groac'h ; by corruption 
 Groais, or Groix. But the word gradually lost its original 
 meaning of old woman, and came to signify a woman en- 
 dowed with power over the elements, and dwelling amongst 
 the waves, as did the island Druidesses ; in fact, a sort of 
 water-fay, but of a malevolent nature, like all the Breton 
 fairies. Such of our readers as are not acquainted with La 
 Motte Fouque's beautiful tale of Undine, may require to he 
 reminded that the sprites, sylphs, gnomes, and fairies of 
 the popular mythologies are not necessarily, perhaps not 
 even generally, exempt from mortality.
 
 133 
 
 mon in these parts as christenings and burials now, 
 there dwelt in Lanillis a young man called Houarn 
 Pogamm, and a damsel whose name was Bellah 
 Postik. 
 
 They grew up together in love, as in age and 
 stature; but every one that they had to care for 
 them being dead, one after the other, and they 
 left portionless, the two poor orphans were at last 
 obliged to go into service. They ought, indeed, to 
 have been happy, for they served the same master ; 
 but lovers are like the sea, that murmurs ever. 
 
 " If we had only enough to buy a little cow 
 and a lean pig," said Houarn, " I would take a bit 
 of land of our master; and then the good father 
 should marry us, and we would go and live to- 
 gether." 
 
 " Yes," replied Bellah, with a deep sigh ; " but 
 the times are so hard. The cows and pigs were 
 dearer than ever at Ploudalmazeau the last fair. 
 Providence must surely have given up caring for 
 the world." 
 
 " I am afraid we shall have to wait a long 
 time," said the young man ; " for I never get the 
 last glass of the bottle when I drink with the rest 
 of them." 
 
 " Very long," replied the maiden ; " for I never 
 fan hear the cuckoo." 
 
 Day after day it was the same story ; till at last 
 Houarn was quite out of patience. So one morn-
 
 134 
 
 ing lie came to Bellah, as she was winnowing some 
 corn in the threshing-floor, and told her how he 
 had made up his mind that he would set out on 
 his travels to seek his fortune. 
 
 Sadly troubled was the poor girl at this re- 
 solve, and she said all she could to dissuade him 
 from it ; but Houarn, who was a determined young 
 fellow, would not be withheld. 
 
 " The birds," said he, " fly hither and thither 
 till they have found a field of corn, and the bees 
 till they meet with flowers that may yield them 
 honey ; is it for man to be less reasonable than 
 the winged creatures ? I also will go forth on my 
 quest j what I want is but the price of a little 
 cow and a lean pig. If you love me, Bellah, you 
 will no longer oppose a project which is to hasten 
 our marriage." 
 
 Bellah could not but acknowledge that there 
 was reason in his words; so with a sigh and a 
 yearning heart she said, 
 
 " Go then, Houarn, with God's blessing, if it 
 must be so ; but first let me share with you my 
 family relics." 
 
 She led him to her cupboard, and took out a 
 little bel], a knife, and a stafi". 
 
 "There," said she, " these are immemorial heir- 
 looms of our family. This is the bell of St. Kole- 
 dok. Its sound can be heard at any distance, 
 however great, and will give immediate notice to
 
 135 
 
 the possessor's friends should he be in any dan- 
 ger. The knife once belonged to St. Corentin, and 
 its touch dissolves all spells, were they of the 
 arch-fiend himself Lastly, here is the staff of 
 St. Vouga, which will lead its possessor whither- 
 soever he may desire to go. I will give you the 
 knife to defend you from enchantments, and the 
 little bell to let me know if you are in peril ; the 
 staff I will keep, that I may be able to join you, 
 should you need my presence." 
 
 Houarn accepted with thanks his Bellah's gifts, 
 wept awhile with her, as belongs to a parting, and 
 set out towards the mountains. 
 
 But it was then just as it is now, and in all 
 the villages through which he passed, the travel- 
 ler was beset by beggars, to whom any one with 
 whole garments was a man of rank and fortune. 
 
 " By my faith," thought he, " this part of the 
 country seems fitter for spending a fortune than 
 for making one : I must go farther." 
 
 He went onwards therefore towards the west, 
 till at last he arrived at Pontaven, a pretty town, 
 built upon a river bordered with poplars. 
 
 There, as he sat at the inn-door, he overheard 
 two carriers, who, as they loaded their mules, 
 were talking together of the Groac'h of the Isle 
 of Lok. 
 
 Houarn inquired who or what that might be ; 
 and was told that it was the name of a fairy who
 
 136 
 
 inhabited the lake in the largest of the Grlenans,* 
 and who was said to be as rich as all the kings 
 of the earth together. Many had been the trea- 
 sure-seekers that had visited her island, but not 
 one of them had ever returned. 
 
 The thought came suddenly into Houarn's 
 mind that he too would try the adventure. The 
 muleteers did all they could to dissuade him. They 
 were so loud in their remonstrances, that they 
 collected quite a crowd about him, crying out that 
 it was downright unchristian to let him run into 
 destruction in that way ; and the people would 
 even have kept him back by force. Houarn 
 thanked them for the interest they manifested in 
 his welfare, and declared himself ready to give up 
 his design, if only they would make a collection 
 amongst them which would enable him to buy a 
 little cow and a lean pig ; but at this proposition 
 the muleteers and all the others drew back, sim- 
 ply repeating that he was an obstinate felloAv, 
 and that it was of no use talking to him. So 
 Houarn repaired to the sea-shore, where he took 
 a boat, and was carried to the Isle of Lok. 
 
 He had no difficulty in finding the pond, 
 
 * A cluster of islets off the southern coast of Brittany, 
 near the headland of Penmarc'h. The name signifies liter- 
 ally summer-land. One of them is called the isle of Lok, 
 or Lock, and contains a fish-pool, from which it seems to 
 derive its name.
 
 137 
 
 which was in the centre of the island, its banks 
 fringed by sea-plants Avith rose-coloured flowers. 
 As he walked round, he saw lying at one end of 
 it, shaded by a tuft of broom, a sea-green canoe, 
 which floated on the unruffled waters. It Avas 
 fashioned like a swan asleep, Avith its head under 
 its wing. 
 
 Houarn, who had never seen any thing like it 
 before, dreAV nearer with curiosity, and stepped 
 into the boat that he might examine it the better; 
 but scarcely had he set foot within it when the 
 swan seemed to awake, its head started from 
 amongst the feathers, its wide feet spread them- 
 selves to the Avaters, and it SAvam rapidly from 
 the bank. 
 
 The young man gave a cry of alarm, but the 
 swan only made the more swiftly for the middle 
 of the lake; and just as Houarn had decided on 
 throAving himself from his strange bark, and SAvim- 
 ming for the shore, the bird plunged doAvnward 
 head foremost, draAving him under the water along 
 Avith it. 
 
 The unfortunate Leonard, who could not cry 
 out Avithout gulping down the unsavoury Avater 
 of the pool, was silent by necessity, and soon ar- 
 rived at the Groac'h's dwelling. 
 
 It Avas a palace of shells, far surpassing in 
 beauty all that can be imagined. It was entered 
 by a flight of crystal steps, each stair of which, as
 
 138 
 
 the foot pressed it, gave forth a concert of sweet 
 sounds, like the song of many birds. All around 
 stretched gardens of immense extent, with forests 
 of marine plants, and plots of green seaweed, 
 spangled with diamonds in the place of flowers. 
 
 The Groac'h was reclining in the entrance- 
 hall upon a couch of gold. Her dress was of sea- 
 green silk, exquisitely fine, and floating round 
 her like the waves that wrapped her grotto. Her 
 black locks, intertwined with coral, descended to 
 her feet ; and the white and red of her brilliant 
 complexion blended as in the polished lining of 
 some Indian shell. 
 
 Dazzled with a sight at once so fair and un- 
 expected, Houarn stood still ; but with a winning 
 smile the Groac'h rose, and came forward to meet 
 him. So easy and flowing were her movements, 
 that she seemed like a snowy billow heaving 
 along the sea, as she advanced to greet the young 
 Leonard. 
 
 " You are welcome," said she, beckoning him 
 with her hand to enter ; " there is always room 
 here for all comers, especially for handsome young 
 men." 
 
 At this gracious reception Houarn somewhat 
 recovered himself, and entered the hall. 
 
 " Who are you ? Whence come you ? What 
 seek you ?" continued the Groac'h. 
 
 " My name is Houarn," replied the Leonard ;
 
 139 
 
 " I come from Lanillis ; and I am in quest of 
 the wherewithal to buy a little cow and a lean 
 
 pig" 
 
 " Well, come in, Houarn," said the fairy ; " and 
 
 dismiss all anxiety from your mind ; you shall 
 
 have every thing to make you happy." 
 
 While this was passing she had led him into 
 a second hall, the walls of which were covered 
 with pearls ; where she set before him eight dif- 
 ferent kinds of wine, in eight goblets of chased 
 silver. Houarn made trial of each, and found all 
 so much to his taste, that he repeated his draught 
 of each eight times; while ever as the cup left his 
 lips, the Groac^h seemed still fairer than before. 
 
 She meanwhile encouraged him to drink, tell- 
 ing him he need be in no fear of robbing her, for 
 that the lake in the Isle of Lok communicated 
 with the sea, and that all the treasures swallowed 
 up by shipwrecks were conveyed thither by a 
 magic current. 
 
 " I do not wonder," cried Houarn, emboldened 
 at once by the wine and the manner of his hostess, 
 " that the people on shore speak so badly of you ; 
 in fact, it just comes to this, that you are rich, 
 and they are envious. For my part, I should be 
 very well content with the half of your fortune." 
 
 " It shall be yours if you will, Houarn," said 
 the fairy. 
 
 " How can that be ?" he asked.
 
 140 
 
 " My husband, the Korandon, is dead," she 
 answered, " so that I am now a widow ; if you 
 like me well enough, I will become your wife." 
 
 Houarn quite lost his breath for very wonder- 
 ment. For him to marry that beautiful creature ! 
 to dwell in that splendid palace ! and to drink to 
 his heart's content of the eight sorts of wine ! 
 True, he was engaged to Bellah ; but men easily 
 forget such promises, — indeed, for that they are 
 just like women. ■ So he gallantly assured the 
 fairy that one so lovely must be irresistible, and 
 that it would be his pride and joy to become her 
 husband. 
 
 Thereupon the Groac'h exclaimed that she 
 would forthwith make ready the wedding-feast. 
 She spread a table, which she covered with all 
 the delicacies that the Leonard had ever heard 
 of, besides a great many unknown to him even by 
 name ; and then proceeding to a little fish-pond 
 at the bottom of the garden, she began to call, 
 and at each call up swam a fish, which she suc- 
 cessively caught in a steel net. When the net 
 was full, she carried it into the next room, and 
 threw all the fish into a golden frying-pan. 
 
 But it seemed to Houarn as though there was 
 a whispering of little voices amidst the hissing of 
 the pan. 
 
 " What is that whispering in the frying-pan, 
 Groac'h ?" he asked.
 
 141 
 
 " It is the crackling of the wood," said she, 
 stirring the fire. 
 
 An instant after the little voices again began 
 to murmur. 
 
 " What is that murmuring, Groac'h V asked 
 the bridegroom. 
 
 " It is the butter in the frying-pan," she an- 
 swered, giving the fish a toss. 
 
 But soon the little voices cried yet louder. 
 
 " What is that cry, Groac'h ?" said Houarn. 
 
 " It is the cricket in the hearth," replied the 
 fairy ; and she began to sing, so that the Leonard 
 could no longer hear any thing but her voice. 
 
 But he could not help thinking on what ^ ^ 
 had noticed : and thought brought fear, and fear, 
 of course, repentance. 
 
 " Alas I" he cried, " can it then be possible 
 that I have so soon forgotten Bellah for this 
 Groac'h, who is no doubt a child of Satan ? With 
 her for my wife, I shall not even dare to say my 
 prayers at night, and shall be as sure to go to 
 hell as an exciseman." 
 
 While he thus communed with himself, the 
 fairy brought in the fried fish, and pressed him 
 to eat, while she went to fetch him twelve new 
 sorts of wine. 
 
 Houarn sighed, took out his knife, and pre- 
 pared to begin ; but scarcely had the spell-de- 
 stroying blade touched the golden dish, when all
 
 143 
 
 the lish rose up in the form of little men, each 
 one clad in the proper costume of his rank and 
 occupation. There was a lawyer with his bands, 
 a tailor in blue stockings, a miller all white with 
 flour, and so on ; all crying out at once, as they 
 swam in the melted butter, — 
 
 " Houarn, save us, if thou wouldst thyself be 
 saved." 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! what are these little men 
 singing out from amongst the melted butter?" 
 cried the Leonard, in bewilderment. 
 
 " We are Christians like thyself," they an- 
 swered. " We too came to seek our fortunes in 
 the Isle of Lok ; we too consented to marry th@ 
 Groac'h ; and the day after the wedding she did 
 with us as she had done with all our predeces- 
 sors, of whom the fish-pond in the garden is 
 full." 
 
 " What !" cried Houarn, " a creature so young 
 and fair, and yet so wicked ?" 
 
 " And thou wilt soon be in the same condi- 
 tion, subject thyself to be fried and eaten by 
 some new-comer." 
 
 Houarn gave a jump, as though he felt him- 
 self already in the golden frying-pan, and ran 
 towards the door, thinking only how he might 
 escape before the Groac'h should return. But 
 she was already there, and had heard all ; her net 
 of steel was soon thrown over the Leonard, who
 
 143 
 
 found himself instantly transformed into a fro^, 
 in which guise the fairy carried him to the fish- 
 pond, and threw him in, to keep her former hus- 
 bands company. 
 
 At this moment the little bell, which Houarn 
 wore round his neck, tinkled of its own accord ; 
 and Bellah heard it at Lanillis, where she was 
 busy skimming the last night's milk. 
 
 The sound struck upon her heart like a fu- 
 neral knell ; and she cried aloud, " Houarn is 
 in danger!" And without a moment's delay, 
 without asking counsel of any as to what she 
 should do, she ran and put on her Sunday clothes, 
 her shoes and silver cross, and set out from the 
 farm with her magic staff. Arrived where four 
 roads met, she set the stick upright in the ground, 
 murmuring in a low voice, — 
 
 " List, thou crab-tree staff of mine ! 
 By good St. Vouga, hear me ! 
 O'er earth and water, through air, 'tis thine 
 Whither I will to bear me !" 
 
 And lo, the stick became a bay nag, dressed, 
 saddled, and bridled, with a rosette behind each 
 ear, and a blue feather in front. 
 
 Bellah mounted, and the horse set forward ; 
 first at a walking pace, then he trotted, and at 
 last galloped, and that so swiftly, that ditches, 
 trees, houses, and steeples passed before the young 
 girl's eyes like the arms of a spindle. But she
 
 144 
 
 complained not, feeling that each step brought 
 her nearer to her dear Houarn; nay, she rather 
 urged on her beast, saying, 
 
 " Less swift than the swallow is the horse, less 
 swift the swallow than the wind, the wind than 
 the lightning; but thou, my good steed, if thou 
 lovest me, outstrip them all in speed: for a part 
 of my heart is suifering; the better half of my 
 own life is in danger " 
 
 The horse understood her, and flew like a 
 straw driven by the whirlwind till he avrived in 
 the country of Arhes, at the foot of the rock 
 called the Stag's Leap. But there he stood still, 
 for never had horse scaled that precipice. Bellah, 
 perceiving the cause of his stopping, renewed her 
 prayer : 
 
 " Once again, thou courser mine, 
 By good St. Vouga, hear me ! 
 O'er earth and water, through air, 'tis thine 
 Whither I will to bear me!" 
 
 She had hardly finished, when a pair of wings 
 sprang from the sides of her horse, which noAV 
 became a great bird, and in this shape flew away 
 with her to the top of the rock. 
 
 Strange indeed was the sight that here met 
 her eyes. Upon a nest made of potter's clay and 
 dry moss squatted a little korandon,* all swarthy 
 and wrinkled, who, on beholding Bellah, began 
 
 to cry aloud, 
 
 * A dwarfish sprite.
 
 145 
 
 " Hurrah ! here is the pretty maiden come to 
 save me I" 
 
 "Save thee!" said Bellah. "Who art thou, 
 then, my little man V 
 
 "I am Jeannik, the. husband of the Groac'h 
 of the Isle of Lok. She it was that sent me 
 here." 
 
 " But what art thou doing in this nest V 
 
 " I am sitting on six stone eggs, and I cannot 
 be free till they are hatched." 
 
 Bellah could not keep herself from laughing. 
 
 " Poor thintr \" said she ; " and how can I de- 
 liver thee ?" 
 
 "By first saving Houarn, who is in the Groac'h's 
 power." 
 
 " Ah, tell me how I may do that !" cried the 
 orphan girl, "and not a moment will I lose in 
 setting about my part in the matter, though I 
 should have to make the circuit of the four dio- 
 ceses upon my bare knees." 
 
 " Well, then, there are two things to be done," 
 said the korandon. " The first, to present thyself 
 before the Groac'h as a young man ; and the next, 
 to take from her the steel net which she carries 
 at her girdle, and shut her up in it till the day of 
 judgment." 
 
 " And where shall I get a suit of clothes to 
 fit me, korandon?" 
 
 " Thou shalt see." 
 
 L
 
 146 
 
 And with these words the little dwarf pulled 
 out four hairs from his foxy poll, and bleAv 
 them to the winds, muttering something in an 
 under-tone, and lo, the four hairs became four 
 tailors, of whom the first. held in his hand a cab- 
 bage, the second a pair of scissors, the third p, 
 needle, and the last a smoothing goose. All the 
 four seated themselves cross-legged round the 
 nest, and began to prepare a suit of clothes for 
 Bellah. 
 
 Out of one cabbage-leaf they made a beautiful 
 coat, laced at every seam ; of another they made 
 a waistcoat ; but it took two leaves for the trunk- 
 breeches, such as are worn in the country of 
 Leon ; lastly, the heart of the cabbage was shaped 
 into a hat, and the stalk was converted into 
 shoes. 
 
 Thus equipped, Bellah would have passed any 
 where for a handsome young gentleman in green 
 velvet lined with white satin. 
 
 She thanked the korandon, who added some 
 further instructions ; and then her great bird flew 
 away with her straight to the Isle of Lok. There 
 she commanded him to resume the form of a 
 crab-stick ; and entering the swan-shaped boat, 
 arrived safely at the Groac'h's palace. 
 
 The fairy was quite taken at first sight with 
 the velvet-clad young Leonard. 
 
 " Well," quoth she to herself, " you are the
 
 147 
 
 best-looking young fellow that has ever come to 
 see me ; and I do think I shall love you for three 
 times three days." 
 
 And she began to make much of her guest, 
 calling her her darling, and heart of hearts. She 
 treated her with a collation ; and Bellah found 
 upon the table St. Corentin's knife, which had 
 been left there by Houarn. She took it up against 
 the time of need, and followed the Groac'h into 
 the garden. There the fairy showed her the grass- 
 plots flowered with diamonds, the fountains of 
 perfumed waters, and, above all, the fish-pond, 
 wherein swam fishes of a thousand colours. 
 
 "With these last Bellah pretended to be espe- 
 cially taken, so that she must needs sit down 
 upon the edge of the pond, the better to enjoy the 
 sight of them. 
 
 The Groac'h took advantage of her delight to 
 ask her if she would not like to spend all her 
 days in this lovely place. Bellah replied that she 
 should like it of all things. 
 
 " Well, then, so you may, and from this very 
 hour, if you are only ready at once to marry me," 
 proceeded the fairy. 
 
 " Very well," replied Bellah ; " but you must 
 let me fetch up one of these beautiful fishes with 
 the steel net that hangs at your girdle." 
 
 The Groac'h, nothing suspecting, and taking 
 this request for a mere boyish freak, gave her the
 
 148 
 
 net, saying with a smile, " Let us see, fair fisher- 
 man, what you will catch." 
 
 " Thee, fiend !" cried Bellah, throwing the net 
 over the Groac'h's head. " In the name of the 
 Saviour of men, accursed sorceress, become in body 
 even as thou art in soul !" 
 
 The cry uttered by the Groac'h died away in 
 a stifled murmur, for the exorcism had already 
 taken eiFect ; the beautiful water fay was now 
 nothing more than the hideous queen of toad- 
 stools. 
 
 In an instant Bellah drew the net, and with 
 all speed threw it into a well, upon which she 
 laid a stone sealed Avith the sign of the cross, 
 that it misht remain closed till the tombs shall 
 be opened at the last day. 
 
 She then hastened back to the pond ; but all 
 the fish were already out of it, coming forth to 
 meet her, like a procession of many -coloured 
 monks, crying in their little hoarse voices, " Be- 
 hold our lord and master ! who has delivered us 
 from the net of steel and the golden frying-pan." 
 
 " And who will also restore you to your shape 
 of Christians," said Bellah, drawing forth the knife 
 of St. Corentin. But as she was about to touch 
 the first fish, she perceived close to her a frog, 
 with the magic bell hung about his neck, and 
 sobbing bitterly as he knelt before her. Bellah 
 felt her bosom swell, and she exclaimed, " Is it
 
 149 
 
 thou, is it thou, my Houarn, thou lord of my 
 sorrow and my joy ?" 
 
 " It is I," answered the youth. 
 
 At a touch with the potent blade he recovered 
 his proper form, and Bellah and he fell into each 
 other's arms, the one eye weeping for the past, 
 the other glistening with the present joy. 
 
 She then did the like to all the fishes, who 
 were restored each of them to his pristine shape 
 and condition. 
 
 The work of disenchantment was hardly at an 
 end, when up came the little korandon from the 
 Stag's-Leap rock. 
 
 " Here I am, my pretty maiden," cried he to 
 Bellah : "the spell which held me where you saw 
 me is broken, and I am come to thank you for 
 my deliverance." 
 
 He then conducted the lovers to the Groac'h's 
 coffers, which were filled with precious stones, of 
 which he told them to take as many as they pleased. 
 
 They both loaded their pockets, their girdles, 
 and their hats ; and when they had as much as 
 they could carry, they departed, with all whom 
 she had delivered from the enchantment. 
 
 The banns were soon published, and Houarn 
 and Bellah were married. But instead of a little 
 cow and a lean pig, he bought all the land in the 
 parish, and put in as farmers the people he had 
 brouirht with him from the Isle of Lok.
 
 150 
 
 THE FOTJR GIFTS. 
 
 If I had an income of three hundred crowns, 
 I would go and dwell at Quimper ; the finest 
 church in Cornouaille is to be found there, and 
 all the houses have weather-vanes upon their 
 roofs. If I had two hundred crowns a year, I 
 would live at Carhaix, for the sake of its heath- 
 fed sheep and its game. But if I had only one 
 hundred, I would set up housekeeping at Pont- 
 aven, for there is the greatest abundance of every 
 thing. At Pontaven they sell butter at the price 
 of milk, chickens for that of eggs, and linen at 
 the same rate as you can buy green flax. So that 
 there are plenty of good farms there, where they 
 dish up salt pork at least three times a week, and 
 Avhere the very shepherds eat as much rye-bread 
 as they desire. 
 
 In such a farm lived Barbaik Bourhis, a spi- 
 rited woman, who had maintained her household 
 like a man, and who had fields and stacks enough 
 to have kept two sons at college. 
 
 But Barbaik had only a niece, whose earnings 
 far outweighed her keep, so that every day she 
 laid by as much as she could save. 
 
 But savings too easily acquired have always
 
 151 
 
 their bad side. If you hoard up wheat, you attract 
 rats into your barns ; and if you lay by crowns, 
 you will engender avarice in your heart. 
 
 Old Mother Bourhis had come at last to care 
 for nothing but the increase of her hoards, and 
 think nothing of any one who did not happen to 
 pay heavy sums each month to the tax-gatherers. 
 So she was angry when she saw Denes, the la- 
 bourer of Plover, chatting with her niece behind 
 the gable. One morning, after thus surprising 
 them, she cried to Tephany in step-mother tones, 
 
 " Are not you ashamed to be always chat- 
 tering thus with a young man who has nothing, 
 when there are so many others who would gladly 
 buy for you the silver ring ?" 
 
 " Denes is a good workman and a thorough 
 Christian," replied the damsel. " Some day he 
 will be able to rent a farm where he may rear a 
 family." 
 
 " And so you would like to marry him ?" in- 
 terrupted the old woman. " God save us ! I 
 would sooner see you drowned in the well than 
 married to that vagabond. No, no, it shall never 
 De said that I brought up my own sister's child 
 to be the wife of a man who can carry his whole 
 fortune in his tobacco-pouch." 
 
 " What matters fortune when we have good 
 health, and can ask the Blessed Virgin to look 
 down on our intentions ?" replied Tephany gently.
 
 153 
 
 " What matters fortune I" replied ihefermi^re, 
 scandalised. " What ! have you come to such a 
 length as to despise the wealth that God has 
 given us ? May all the saints take pity on us ! 
 Since this is the case, you bold-faced thing, I for- 
 bid you ever to speak again to Denes ; and if I 
 catch him at this farm again, it will be the worse 
 for you both ; and meanwhile go you down to the 
 washing-place, and wash the linen, and spread it 
 out to dry upon the hawthorn ; for since you've 
 had one ear turned towards the wind from Plover, 
 every thing stands still at home, and your two 
 arms are worth no more than the five fingers of 
 a (me-armed man." 
 
 Tephany would have answered, but in vain. 
 Mother Bourhis imperiously pointed out to her 
 the bucket, the soap, and the beetle, and ordered 
 her to set off that very instant. 
 
 The girl obeyed, but her heart swelled with 
 grief and resentment. 
 
 " Old age is harder than the farm-door steps," 
 thought she to herself; "yes, one hundred times 
 harder, for the rain by frequent falling wears 
 away the stones ; but tears have no power to 
 soften the will of old people. God knows that 
 talking with Denes was the only pleasure I had. 
 If I am to see him no more, I might as well leave 
 the world at once ; and our good angel was always 
 with us. Denes has done nothing but teach me
 
 153 
 
 pretty songs, and talk about what we shall do 
 when we are married, in a farm, he looking after 
 the fields, and I managing the cattle." 
 
 Thus talking to herself, Tephany had reached 
 the douez. Whilst setting doAvn her tub of linen 
 upon one of the white lavatory stones, she became 
 aware of an old woman, a stranger, sitting there, 
 leaning her head upon a little scorched thorn- 
 stick. NotAvithstanding her vexation, Tephany 
 saluted her. 
 
 " Is my aunt* taking the air under the ald- 
 ers ?" said she, moving her load farther off. 
 
 " One must rest where one can, when one has 
 the roof of heaven for a shelter," answered the 
 old woman, in a trembling voice. 
 
 " Are you, then, so desolate ?" asked Tephany 
 compassionately ; " is there no relation left who 
 can offer you a refuge at his fireside ?" 
 
 " Every one is long since dead," replied the 
 stranger ; " and I have no other family than all 
 kind hearts." 
 
 The maiden took the piece of rye-bread rubbed 
 with dripping which Barbaik had given her in a 
 bit of linen with her beetle. 
 
 "Take this, poor aunt," said she, offering it 
 to the beggar. " To-day, at least, you shall dine 
 like a Christian on our good God's bread ; only 
 
 * Young Breton girls thus address old women from a 
 motive of respect.
 
 154 
 
 remember in your prayers my parents, who are 
 dead." 
 
 The old woman took the bread, then looked 
 at Tephany. 
 
 " Those who help others deserve help them- 
 selves," said she. " Your eyes are red, because 
 Barbaik has forbidden you to speak to the lad 
 from Plover ; but he is a worthy youth, whose in- 
 tentions are good, and I will give you the means 
 of seeing him once every day." 
 
 "You !" cried the girl, astonished that the beg- 
 gar was so well informed. 
 
 "Take this long copper-pin," replied the crone ; 
 " and every time you stick it in your dress. Mo- 
 ther Bourhis will be forced to leave the farm, 
 and go to count her cabbages. All the time this 
 pin remains where you stick it, you will be at 
 liberty ; and your aunt will not return until the 
 pin is put back into this etui." 
 
 With these words the beggar rose, nodded a 
 farewell, and disappeared. 
 
 Tephany was lost in astonishment. Evidently 
 the old woman was no beggar, but a saint, or a 
 singer of truth.* 
 
 At any rate, the young girl treasured the pin 
 carefully, well determined to try its power the 
 
 * Chantease de verite {Dion ganerez), literally qui chante 
 droit, a name given in Brittany to fairies who foretell the 
 future.
 
 155 
 
 next day. Towards the time, then, at which Denes 
 was accustomed to make his appearance, she set 
 it in her colLar. Barbaik instantly put on her 
 wooden shoes, and walked off into the garden, 
 where she set herself to count her cabbages ; from 
 the garden she went to the orchard, and from the 
 orchard to the field, so that Tephany could talk 
 with Denes at her ease. 
 
 It was the same the next day, and the next, 
 through many weeks. As soon as the pin made 
 its appearance from the etui, the good woman 
 was off amongst her cabbages, always beginning 
 to count once more how many little or big, em- 
 bossed or curly cabbages* she had. 
 
 Denes at first appeared enchanted at this 
 freedom, but by degrees he grew less eager to 
 avail himself of it. He had taught Tephany all 
 his songs ; he had told her all his plans ; now he 
 was forced to consider what he could talk to her 
 about, and make it up beforehand, like a preacher 
 preparing his sermon. And more than that, he 
 came later, and went earlier away ; sometimes 
 even, pretending cartage, weeding, or errands to 
 the town detained him, he came not to the farm 
 at all ; and Tephany had to console herself with 
 her pin. 
 
 She understood that the love of her betrothed 
 
 * These are diflferent kinds of cabbages cultivated in 
 Brittany.
 
 156 
 
 was cooling, and became more sorrowful than 
 
 before. 
 
 One day, after vainly waiting for the youth, 
 she took her pitcher, and went all solitary to 
 the fountain, her heart swelling with displea- 
 sure. 
 
 When she reached it, she perceived the same 
 old woman who had given her the magic pin. 
 There she sat, near the spring ; and watching 
 Tephany as she advanced, she began with a little 
 chuckling laugh, 
 
 " Ah, ah ! then the pretty girl is no longer 
 satisfied to chatter with her humble servant any 
 hour of the day." 
 
 " Alas, to chat, I must be with him," replied 
 Tephany mournfully ; " and custom has made my 
 company less agreeable to him Oh, aunt, since 
 you have given me the means of seeing him every 
 day, you might give me at the same time wit 
 enough to keep my hold upon him." 
 
 " Is that what my daughter wants ?" said the 
 old woman. " In that case, here is a feather ; let 
 her but put it in her hair, and no one can resist 
 her, for she will be as clever and as cunning as 
 Master John* himself" 
 
 Tephany, reddening with delight, carried off 
 the feather ; and just before Denes' visit on the 
 * A name given by the Bretons to the tricksy sprite 
 Maistr Yan.
 
 157 
 
 following day, she stuck it under her blue rozares* 
 That very instant it appeared to her as if the sun 
 rose in her mind ; she found herself acquainted 
 with what students spend ten years in learning, 
 and much that even the very wisest know no- 
 thing of; for with the science of a man, she still 
 preserved the malice of a woman. Denes was of 
 course astonished at her words ; she talked in 
 rhyme like the hazvalanes\ of Cornouaille, she 
 knew more songs than the mendicants from Sca'er, 
 and could tell all the stories current at the forges 
 and the mills throughout the country. 
 
 The young man came day after day, and Te- 
 phany found always something new to tell him. 
 Denes had never met man or woman with so 
 much wit ; but after enjoying it for a time, he 
 began to be scared by it. Tephany had not been 
 able to resist putting in her feather for others 
 than him ; her songs, her sayings, were repeated 
 every where, and people said, 
 
 " She is a mischievous creature ; he who mar- 
 ries her is sure to be led like a bridled horse." 
 
 The Plover lad repeated in his own mind the 
 same predictions ; and as he had always thought 
 that he would rather hold than wear the bridle, 
 
 * The ribbon covered with lace worn by Breton peasant- 
 girls in their hair. 
 
 t Negotiators for a wedding, who improvise disputa- 
 tious in verse, like Virgil's shepherds.
 
 158 
 
 he began to laugh with more constraint at Te- 
 phany's jests. 
 
 One day, when he wanted to be off to a dance 
 in a new threshing-floor, the maiden used her 
 utmost efforts to retain him; but Denes, who did 
 not choose to be led, would not listen to her rea- 
 sons, and repulsed her entreaties. 
 
 " Ah, I see why you are so anxious to go to 
 the new barn," said Tephany, with irritation ; 
 " you are going to see Aziliyz of Penenru there." 
 
 Azili9z was the handsomest girl in the whole 
 canton ; and, if her good friends told truth, she 
 was the greatest flirt. 
 
 " To tell the truth, Azili5z will be there," said 
 Denes, who delighted in piquing the jealousy of 
 his dearly-beloved ; "and to see her any one would 
 go a long round." 
 
 " Go, then, where your heart draws you," said 
 the wounded damsel. 
 
 And she returned to the farm without hearing 
 a word more he had to say. 
 
 But seating herself, overwhelmed with sad- 
 ness, on the broad hearth-stone, she gave herself 
 up to earnest thought ; and then flinging the won- 
 drous feather from her, she exclaimed, 
 
 " Of what use is wit and cleverness for maid- 
 ens, since men rush towards beauty as the flies 
 to sunshine ! Ah, what I want, old aunt, is not 
 to be the wisest, but the fairest on the earth."
 
 159 
 
 " Be thou also, then, the fairest," uttered an 
 unexpected voice. 
 
 Tephany turned round astonished, and saw at 
 the door the old woman with her thorn-stick, who 
 thus spoke : 
 
 " Take this necklace, and so long as you shall 
 wear it round your neck, you shall appear amongst 
 all other women as the queen of the meadow 
 amidst wild flowers." 
 
 Tephany could not repress a cry of joy. She 
 hastened to put on the necklace, rushed to her 
 little mirror, and there stood dumb with admira- 
 tion. Never had any girl been at once so fair 
 and so rosy, so lovely to look upon. 
 
 Anxious to judge instantly of the effect which 
 her appearance would produce on Denes, she 
 decked herself out in her finest dress, her worsted 
 stockings, and her buckled shoes, and took her 
 way towards the new barn. 
 
 But just as she reached the cross-road, she 
 met a young lord in his coach, who, the instant he 
 caught sight of her, desired the coachman to stop. 
 
 " By my life," cried he, in admiration, " I had 
 no idea there was such a beautiful creature as 
 this in the country ; and if it were to cost me my 
 life, she must bear my name." 
 
 But Tephany replied, " Go on, good sir, go on 
 your way ; I am but a poor peasant-girl, accus- 
 tomed to winnow, milk, and mow."
 
 160 
 
 " But I will make a noble lady of you," cried 
 the young lord ; and taking her hand, he tried to 
 lead her to his coach. 
 
 The maiden drew back. 
 
 " I will only be the bride of Denes, the Plover 
 labourer," said she, with resolution. 
 
 The lord still insisted ; but when he found that 
 she went towards the ditch to fly away across 
 the meadows, he desired his footmen to seize her, 
 and put her by force into the coach, which then 
 set off at full gallop. 
 
 In about an hour's time they reached the 
 castle, which was built of carved stone, and was 
 covered with slate, like all noble mansions. The 
 young lord ordered them to go and fetch a priest 
 to perform the marriage ceremony ; and as mean- 
 while Tephany would not hear a word he had 
 to say, and kept trying to run away, he made 
 them shut her up in a great hall closed by three 
 doors well bolted, and desired his servants to 
 guard her Avell. But by means of her pin Te- 
 phany sent them all into the garden to count 
 cabbages ; bv her feather she discovered a fourth 
 door concealed in the panneling, whereby she 
 escaped ; and then fervently committing herself 
 to Providence, she scampered away through the 
 woods like a hare who hears the dogs behind her. 
 
 As long as she had any strength left, on she 
 went, until the night began to close around her.
 
 161 
 
 Then, perceiving the turret of a convent, she went 
 up to the little grated door, and ringing the bell, 
 begged for a night's shelter ; but on seeing her 
 the portress shook her head. 
 
 " Go away, go away," said she ; " there is no 
 place here for young girls so beautiful as you, 
 who wander all alone at this hour of night along 
 the roads." 
 
 And closing the wicket, she went away with- 
 out listening to another word. 
 
 Forced to go further on, Tephany stopped at a 
 farm-door, where there were several young men 
 and women talking together, and made the same 
 request as at the convent. 
 
 The mistress of the house hesitated what ans- 
 wer to make ; but all the young men, dazzled 
 by Tephany 's beauty, cried out each one that he 
 would take her to his father's house, and every 
 one endeavoured to outbid his neighbour in their 
 offers. One said that he would take her in a 
 wagon and three horses, lest she should be tired ; 
 another promised her the best bed ; and a third 
 declared that she should sit down at table with 
 the family. At last, from promises they came to 
 quarrelling, and from quarrelling to blows ; until 
 the women, frightened, began to abuse Tephany, 
 telling her it was an infamous shame to come 
 with her charms to put dissensions amongst men 
 in that way. The poor girl, quite beside herself, 
 
 M
 
 162 
 
 tried to run away ; but all the young men set off 
 after her. Just then she all at once remembered 
 her necklace, and taking it from her neck slipped 
 it round that of a sow who was cropping the but- 
 tercups. In an instant the charm that drew the 
 youths towards her died away, and they began 
 to pursue the beast instead, which fled away in 
 terror. 
 
 Tephany still went on in spite of her fatigue, 
 and came at last to her aunt's farm, worn out 
 with weariness, but still more with grief. Her 
 wishes had brought her so little satisfaction, that 
 she passed many days without making another. 
 However, Denes' visits grew more and more un- 
 certain ; he had undertaken to clear a warren, and 
 there he toiled from morning until night. 
 
 When the young girl regretted seeing so little 
 of him, he had always to reply that his labour 
 was their sole resource ; and that if people want 
 to spend their time in talking together, they must 
 needs have legacies or dowries. 
 
 Then Tephany began to complain and to 
 desire. 
 
 " God pardon me," said she, in a low voice ; 
 " but what I ought to ask for is not liberty to 
 see Denes every day, for he soon gets tired of it ; 
 nor wit, for it scares him ; nor beauty, for it 
 brings upon me trouble and mistrust ; but rather 
 wealth, for then one can be master of oneself and
 
 163 
 
 others. Ah, if I dared to make yet one petition 
 more of the old aunt, I would be wiser than I was 
 before." 
 
 " Be satisfied," said the voice of the old beff^ar, 
 though Tephany perceived her not. "Feel in your 
 right pocket, and you will find a little box ; rub 
 your eyes with the ointment it contains, and you 
 will have a treasure in yourself." 
 
 The young girl hastily felt in her pocket, 
 found the box, opened it, and began to rub her 
 eyes as she had been desired, when Barbaik Bour- 
 his entered. 
 
 She who, in spite of herself, had now for some 
 time past consumed whole days in cabbage-count- 
 ing, and who saw all the farm-work fallen into 
 arrears, was only waiting an occasion for visiting 
 her wrath upon somebody. Seeing her niece sit- 
 ting down doing nothing, she clasped her hands 
 and cried, 
 
 "That's the way, then, that the work goes 
 on whilst I am in the fields. Ah, I am surprised 
 no longer that we are all going to ruin. Are 
 you not ashamed, you wretch, to plunder food in 
 this way from your kith and kin?" 
 
 Tephany would have excused herself; but 
 Barbaik's rage was like milk heating on a turf- 
 fire — let but the first bubble rise, and all mounts 
 upwards and boils over ; from reproaches she came 
 to threats, and from threats to a box on the ear.
 
 164 
 
 Tephany, who had borne every thing patiently 
 till then, could no longer restrain her tears ; but 
 guess her astonishment when she perceived that 
 every tear was a beautiful and shining fair round 
 pearl. 
 
 Mother Bourhis, who made the same discovery, 
 uttered loud cries of admiration, and set herself 
 to pick them up. 
 
 DeneS; who came in at that instant, was no 
 less surprised. 
 
 " Pearls ! real pearls I" he exclaimed, catching 
 them. 
 
 " It will make our fortune," said Barbaik, con- 
 tinuing to pick them up. " Ah, what fairy has 
 bestowed this gift upon her ? We must take good 
 care lest it gets noised abroad, Denes; I will give 
 you a share, but only you. Go on, my girl, go on ; 
 you also shall be benefited by this opportunity." 
 
 She held her apron, and Denes his hat ; the 
 pearls were all he thought of, forgetful they were 
 tears. 
 
 Tephany, choking with emotion, would have 
 escaped; but the old woman stopped her, re- 
 proaching her with wishing to defraud them, and 
 saying all she could to make her cry the more. 
 The young girl compelled herself with violent 
 effort to control her sorrow, and to wipe her eyes. 
 
 " It's all over already," cried Barbaik. " Ah, 
 Blessed Virgin, can one be so weak-minded ! If
 
 165 
 
 I had such a gift as that, I would no more think 
 of stopping than the great fountain on the Green 
 Road. Hadn't we better beat her a little, and try 
 again ?" 
 
 " No," interrupted Denes, " for fear we should 
 exhaust her the first time. I will set forth this 
 moment for the town, and there find out how 
 much each pearl is worth." 
 
 Barbaik and he went out together, reckoning 
 the value as nearly as they could, and deciding 
 beforehand how they should divide it, forgetting 
 Tephany completely in the matter. 
 
 As for her, she clasped her two hands upon 
 her heart, and raised her eyes towards heaven; 
 but her look was intercepted by the aged beggar, 
 who, leaning on her stafi" in the duskiest corner 
 of the hearth, was watching her with mocking 
 eye. The maiden trembled ; and seizing the pin, 
 the feather, and the box of ointment given her 
 by the crone, 
 
 " Take back, take back," she cried, " your fatal 
 gifts. Woe to all those who cannot be content 
 with what they have received from God ! He had 
 gifted me according to His own wise appointment, 
 and I madly was dissatisfied with my portion. 
 Give others liberty, wit, beauty, and wealth. For 
 me, I neither am, nor will be, other than the sim- 
 ple girl of former days, loving and serving her 
 neighbours to the utmost of her power."
 
 166 
 
 " Well said, Tephany," cried the old woman. 
 " Thou hast come out from the trial ; but let it do 
 thee good. The Almighty has sent me to bestow 
 this lesson on thee ; I am thy guardian angel. 
 Now that thou hast learned this truth, thou wilt 
 live more happily ; for Grod has promised peace to 
 hearts of good will." 
 
 With these words the beggar changed into an 
 angel glittering with light ; and shedding through 
 the farm a scent of violets and of incense, van- 
 ished like a flash of lightning. 
 
 Tephany forgave Denes his willingness to make 
 merchandise of her tears. Become now more rea- 
 sonable, she accepted happiness as we find it on 
 this earth ; and she was married to the lad of 
 Plover, who proved through all his life a good 
 husband and a first-rate workman.
 
 167 
 
 THE PALACE OF THE PROUD KING. 
 
 The children slumber sweetly in their curtained 
 beds ; the brown dog snores upon the broad 
 hearth-stone ; the cows chew the cud behind their 
 screen of broom ; and the fading fire-light quivers 
 on the grandsire's old arm-chair. 
 
 This is the time, dear friends, when we should 
 make the sign of the cross, and murmur a prayer 
 in secret for the souls of those that we have loved. 
 Hark ! midnight is striking from St. Michael's 
 church, — midnight of Holy Pentecost. 
 
 This is the hour when all true Christians lay 
 down their heads upon their quiet pillows, con- 
 tent Avith that which God has given them, and 
 sleep, lulled by the gentle breathing of their slum- 
 bering children. 
 
 But as for Perik Skoarn, no little children 
 had he. He was a daring young fellow, but as 
 yet quite solitary. When he saw the gentry from 
 the neighbourhood coming to Mass on Sundays, 
 he envied them their handsome horses with the 
 silver-plated bridles, their velvet mantles, and 
 their embroidered silken hose. He longed to be 
 as rich as they were, that he also might have a 
 seat covered with red leather in the church, and
 
 168 
 
 be able to carry the fair farmers' daughters to the 
 fair seated on his horse's crupper. 
 
 This is the reason Perik walked upon Lew- 
 Drez, at the foot of St. Efflam's down, whilst all 
 good Christians slept upon their beds, watched 
 over by the Holy Virgin. Perik is a man hun- 
 gering after greatness and luxury. The longings 
 of his heart are countless, like the nests of the 
 sea-swallows in the sandy cliffs. 
 
 The waves sighed sadly in the dark horizon ; 
 the crabs fed silently upon the bodies of the 
 drowned ; the wind that whistled in the rocks of 
 R,och-Ellas mimicked the call-cry of the smug- 
 glers of Lew-Drez; but Skoarn still paced the 
 shore. 
 
 He looked upon the mountain, and recalled 
 the Avords of the old beggar at Yar Cross. That 
 old man knew all that had happened in these 
 parts, when these our ancient oaks hung yet as 
 acorns on their parent trees, and our oldest ravens 
 still slumbered in the egg. 
 
 Now the old beggar of Yar had told him, that 
 here, where now stretch the downs of St. Ef- 
 flara, a famous city formerly extended ; its ships 
 covered the wide ocean, and it was governed by a 
 king, whose sceptre was a hazel-wand that fash- 
 ioned every thing according to his wish. 
 
 But the king and all his people were pun- 
 ished for their pride and iniquity; for one day,
 
 169 
 
 by God's command, the strand rose upwards like 
 the bubbling of a boiling flood, and so engulfed 
 the guilty city. But every year, upon the night 
 of Pentecost, a passage opens through the moun- 
 tain with the first stroke of twelve o'clock, and 
 shows an entrance to the monarch's palace. 
 
 The all-powerful hazel-ward maybe discovered 
 hanging in the furthest hall of this magnificent 
 abode ; but those who seek it must make haste, 
 for as the final stroke of midnight sounds upon 
 the ear, the passage closes once again, to open no 
 more until the following Pentecost. 
 
 Skoarn had well remembered all the tale of 
 the old beggar at the Cross of Yar, and for this 
 reason he treads at such unwonted hour the sands 
 of the Lew-Drez. 
 
 At length a sharp stroke came dashing from 
 the belfrey of St. Michael Skoarn trembled ; he 
 looked eagerly, by the pale starlight, at the gra- 
 nite mass which heads the mountain, and beheld 
 it slowly open, like the jaws of an awakening 
 dragon. 
 
 Skoarn rushed into the passage, which at first 
 seemed dark, but gradually gleamed with a blue 
 light, like that which hovers nightly over church- 
 yard graves ; and thus he found his way into a 
 mighty palace, the marble front of which was 
 sculptured like the church of Folgoat or of Quim- 
 per-on-the-Odet
 
 170 
 
 The first hall he entered was all full of che&is 
 heaped, like the corn-bins after harvest, with the 
 purest silver ; but Perik Skoarn wanted more 
 than silver, and he passed it through. The clock 
 sounded the sixth stroke of midnight. 
 
 He found a second hall, set round with cofiers 
 crammed with gold, as stable-racks are crammed 
 with blossoming grass in the sweet month of June. 
 But Skoarn wanted something better still, and he 
 went on. The seventh stroke sounded. 
 
 The third hall to which he came had baskets 
 flowing over with white pearls, like milk in the 
 broad dairy-pans of Cornouaille in the early 
 spring. Skoarn would gladly have had some of 
 these ; but he heard the eighth stroke sounding, 
 and he hurried on. 
 
 The fourth hall was all glittering with dia- 
 mond caskets, shedding brighter light than all 
 the furzy piles upon the hillocks of Douron on 
 St. John's eve. Skoarn was dazzled, and hesi- 
 tated for a moment; then rushed into the last 
 hall as he heard the church-clock for the ninth 
 time. 
 
 But there he stood still suddenly with wonder- 
 ing admiration. In front of the hazel- wand, which 
 hung in full sight at the further end, were ranged 
 a hundred maidens most fair to look upon ; they 
 held in one hand wreaths of the green oak, and 
 in the other cups of glowing wine. Skoarn had
 
 171 
 
 resisted silver, gold, pearls, and diamonds ; but 
 he was overpowered by the vision of these beau- 
 teous maidens, and he stood still to gaze at them, 
 and at the sparkling cups they presented to him. 
 
 The tenth stroke sounded, and he heard it 
 not ; the eleventh, and he still stood motionless. 
 At last, just as he was about to hold out his hand 
 to receive the cup from the maiden next to him, 
 the twelfth was heard, as mournful as the great 
 gun of a ship at wreck among the breakers. 
 
 Then Perik, terrified, would fain have turned, 
 but time for him was over. The doors all closed, 
 the hundred fair young girls were now so many 
 granite statues, and all was once more folded up 
 in darkness. 
 
 This is the way our fathers tell the tale of 
 Skoarn. You see now what will happen to a 
 youth who suifers his heart too readily to open 
 at seduction's voice. May all the young take 
 warning by his fate. It is well to walk some- 
 times with eyes cast downwards to the earth, for 
 fear we should be led into the paths of evil and 
 sin.
 
 172 
 
 THE PIPER. 
 
 The sea-breeze blew from the shore of the Black 
 Water, and the stars were rising. The young 
 maidens had gone homewards to the little farms, 
 carrying on their fingers the metal rings their 
 friends had bought them at the fair. The youths 
 went across the common, singing their songs. 
 At last their sonorous voices could no more be 
 heard ; the light dresses of the damsels were no 
 longer to be seen ; it was night. 
 
 Nevertheless, here was Lao, with a merry com- 
 pany, at the entrance of the lonely heath, — Lao, 
 the celebrated piper, come expressly from the 
 mountains to lead the dance at the fair of Armor. 
 His face was as red as a March moon, his black 
 locks floated as they would upon the wind, and he 
 held under his arm the pipe whose magic sounds 
 had even set in motion a number of old women 
 in their sabots. When they came to the cross- 
 road of the Warning, where there rises the granite 
 cross all overgrown with moss, the women stopped, 
 and said, 
 
 " Let us take the pathway leading towards 
 the sea."
 
 173 
 
 Master Lao pointed out the belfry-tower of 
 Plougean over the hill, and said, 
 
 " That is the point we are making for ; why 
 not go across the heath ?" 
 
 The women answered, 
 
 '•' Because there rises a city of Korigans, Lao, 
 in the middle of that heath ; and one must be 
 pure from sin to pass it without danger." 
 
 But Lao laughed aloud. 
 
 " By heaven !" said he, " I have travelled by 
 night-time all these roads, yet I have never seen 
 your little black men counting their money by 
 moonlight, as they tell us at the chimney-corner. 
 Show me the road leading to the Korigan city, 
 and I will go and sing to them the days of the 
 week."* 
 
 But the women all exclaimed, 
 
 " Don't tempt God, Lao. God has put some 
 things in this world of which it is better to be 
 ignorant, and others which we ought to fear. 
 Leave the Korigans alone to dance about their 
 granite dwellings." 
 
 " To dance \" cried Lao. " Then the Korigans 
 have pipers too t' 
 
 " They have the whistling of the wind across 
 the heath, and the singing of the night-bird." 
 
 " Well, then," said the mountaineer, " I am 
 
 • See tale at p. 31.
 
 174 
 
 determined that to-day at least they shall have 
 Christian music. I will go across the common 
 playing some of my best Cornouaille airs." 
 
 So saying, he put his pipe to his lips, and 
 striking up a cheerful strain, he set off boldly on 
 the little footway that stretched like a white line 
 across the gloomy heath. 
 
 The Avomen, terrified, made the sign of the 
 cross, and hurried down the hill. 
 
 But Lao walked straight on without fear, and 
 played meanwhile upon his pipes. As he ad- 
 vanced, his heart grew bolder, his breath more 
 powerful, and the music louder. Already had he 
 crossed just half the common, when he saw the 
 Menhir rising like a phantom in the night, and 
 further on, the dwellings of the Korigans. 
 
 Then he seemed to hear an ever-rising mur- 
 mur. At first it was like the trickling of a rill, 
 then like the rushing of a river, and then the 
 roaring of the sea ; and different sounds were 
 mingled in this roar, — sometimes like stifled 
 laughs, then furious hissing, the mutterings of low 
 voices, and the rush of steps upon the withered 
 grass. 
 
 Lao began to breathe less freely, and his rest- 
 less eyes glanced right and left over the common. 
 It was as if the tufts of heath were moving, all 
 seemed alive and whirling in the gloom, all took 
 the form of hideous dwarfs, and voices were dis-
 
 175 
 
 tinctly heard. Suddenly the moon rose, and Lao 
 cried aloud. 
 
 To left, to right, behind, before, every where, 
 far as the eye could reach, the common was alive 
 with running Korigans. Lao, bewildered, drcAV 
 back to the Menhir, against which he leant ; but 
 the Korigans saAv him, and came round with cries 
 like those of grasshoppers. 
 
 " It is the famous piper of Cornouaille come 
 hither to play for the Korigans." 
 
 Lao made the sign of the cross ; but all the 
 little men surrounded him, and shrieked, 
 
 " Thou belongest to us, Lao. Pipe then, thou 
 famous piper, and lead the dance of the Korigans." 
 
 Lao in vain resisted, some magic power mas- 
 tered him ; he felt the pipe approach his lips ; he 
 played, he danced, in spite of himself The Ko- 
 rigans surrounded him with circling bands, and 
 every time he would have paused they cried in 
 chorus, 
 
 " Pipe, famous piper, pipe, and lead the dance 
 of the Korigans." 
 
 Lao went on thus the whole night ; but as the 
 stars grew paler in the sky, the music of his pipes 
 waxed fainter, his feet had greater difficulty in 
 moving from the ground. At last the dawn of day 
 spread palely in the east, the cocks were heard 
 crowing in the distant farms, and the Korigans 
 disappeared.
 
 176 
 
 Then the mountain piper sunk down breath- 
 less at the foot of the Menhir. The mouth-piece 
 of his pipes fell from his shrivelled lips, his arms 
 dropped upon his knees, his head upon his breast, 
 to rise no more ; and voices murmured in the air, 
 
 " Sleep, famous piper ! thou hast led the 
 dance of the Korigans ; thou shalt never lead the 
 dance for Christians more."
 
 177 
 
 THE WHITE INN. 
 
 Once upon a time there was an inn at Ponthou, 
 known, from its appearance, as the White Inn. 
 The people who kept it were both good and hon- 
 est. They were known to be punctual at their 
 Easter duties, and no one ever thought of count- 
 ing money after them. It was at the White Inn 
 that travellers would stop to sleep ; and horses 
 knew the place so well, that they would draw up 
 of their own accord before the stable-door. 
 
 The headsman of the harvest* had brought in 
 short gloomy days ; and one evening, as Floc'h 
 the landlord was standing at the White-Inn door, 
 a traveller, evidently of importance, and mounted 
 on a splendid foreign steed, reined up his horse, 
 and lifting his hand to his hat, said courteously, 
 
 " I want a supper and a bed-chamber." 
 
 Flocli drew first his pipe from his mouth, and 
 then his hat from his head, and answered, 
 
 " God bless you, sir, a supper you shall have ; 
 but as to a room, we cannot give it you ; for we 
 have now above, six muleteers on their way home 
 to Redon, who have taken all the beds of the 
 White Inn." 
 
 • Bibenn-eost, a »ime given to autumn in Brittany. 
 
 N
 
 178 
 
 • The traveller then said, 
 
 " For God's sake, my good man, contrive for 
 me to sleep somewhere. The very dogs have a 
 kennel, and it is not fitting that Christians be 
 ■without a bed in such weather as this." 
 
 "Sir stranger," said the host remorsefully, "I 
 can only tell you that the inn is full, and we have 
 no place for you but the red room." 
 
 " Well, give me that," replied the stranger. 
 
 Butthe landlord rubbed hisforehead and looked 
 grieved ; for he could not let the traveller sleep in 
 the red chamber. 
 
 "Since I have been at the White Inn," said 
 he at last, "only two men have ever occupied 
 that room ; and on the morrow, black as had 
 been their hair the night before, they rose with 
 it snow-white." 
 
 The traveller looked full at the landlord. 
 
 " Then your house is haunted by the spirits 
 from another Avorld ?" asked he, 
 
 " It is," faltered the landlord. 
 
 " Then God and the Blessed Virgin be merci- 
 ful to me. I will sleep there ; but make me a 
 fire, and warm my bed ; for I am cold." 
 
 The landlord did as he was ordered. 
 
 When the traveller had finished supper, he 
 bade good night to all at table, and went up to 
 the red chamber. The landlord and his wife trem- 
 bled, and began to pray.
 
 179 
 
 The stranger having reached his room began 
 to look about him. 
 
 It was a large flame-coloured chamber, with 
 great shining stains upon the walls, that might 
 well have been taken for the marks of fresh-spilt 
 blood. At the further end there stood a four- 
 post bed, surrounded by heavy curtains. The 
 rest of the room was empty ; and the mournful 
 whistling of the wind came down the chimney 
 and the corridors, and sounded like the cries of 
 souls beseeching prayers. 
 
 The traveller, kneeling down, prayed silently 
 to God, then fearlessly got into bed, and soon 
 slept soundly. 
 
 But, lo, at the very moment when the hour of 
 midnight sounded from a distant church-tower, 
 he suddenly awoke, heard the curtain-rings slid- 
 ing on their iron poles, and beheld them open at 
 his right hand. 
 
 He was going to get out of bed ; but his feet 
 striking against something cold, he recoiled in 
 terror. 
 
 There stood before him a coffin, with four 
 lighted candles at the corners, and covered with 
 a great black pall that glittered as with tears. 
 
 The stranger turned to try the other side of 
 his bed ; but the coffin instaatly changed places, 
 and barred his way out as before. 
 
 Five times he made an effort to escape, and
 
 180 
 
 every time the bier was there beneath his feet, 
 with the candles and the funeral pall. 
 
 The traveller then knew it was a ghost, who 
 had some boon to ask ; and kneeling up in bed, 
 he made the holy sign, and spoke : 
 
 "Who art thou, departed one? Speak. A 
 Christian listens to thee." 
 
 A voice answered from the coffin, 
 
 " I am a traveller murdered here by those who 
 kept this inn before its present owner. I died 
 unprepared, and now I suffer in Purgatory." 
 
 "What needs there, suffering soul, to give thee 
 rest ?" 
 
 "I want six Masses said at the church of our 
 Lady of Folgoat, and also a pilgrimage made for 
 my intention by some Christian to our Lady of 
 Rumengol." 
 
 No sooner had these words been uttered than 
 the lights went out, the curtains closed, and all 
 was silence. 
 
 The stranger spent the night in prayer. 
 
 The next morning he told the landlord every 
 thing, and said, 
 
 " My good friend, I am M. de Rohan, of family 
 as noble as the noblest now in Brittany. I will 
 go and make the pilgrimage to Rumengol, and I 
 will see that the six»Masses shall be said. Trouble 
 yourself no more ; for this suffering soul shall rest 
 in peace."
 
 181 
 
 Within the short space of one month the red 
 room had lost its crimson hue, and become white 
 and cheerful as the others. No sound was heard 
 there but the swallows twittering in the chimney, 
 and nothing could be seen but a fair white bed, a 
 crucifix, and a vessel of holy water. 
 
 The traveller had kept his word.
 
 182 
 
 PERONNIK THE IDIOT.* 
 
 You cannot surely have failed, some time or other, 
 to meet by chance some of those poor idiots, or in- 
 nocents, whose utmost wisdom scarcely serves to 
 lead them as beggars from door to door in quest 
 of daily bread. One might almost fancy they 
 were straying calves who have lost their way home. 
 They stare all round with open eyes and mouth, 
 as if in search of somewhat ; but, alas, that they 
 seek is not plentiful enough in these parts to be 
 found upon the highways — for it is common sense. 
 Peronnik was one of these poor idiots, to 
 whom the charity of strangers had been in place 
 
 * This word idiot must not lead to misconception ; the 
 idiot of popular tales is the personification of cunning weak- 
 ness triumphing over strength. Idiotism, in the traditions 
 of Christian nations, plays the same part as physical ugli- 
 ness in those of the ancients. The latter take the hunch- 
 back jEsop to accomplish extraordinary actions ; the former 
 Peronnik, or some other lad of weak mind, in order that the 
 contrast between the hero and the action may be more 
 striking, and the result more unexpected. 
 
 We refer the reader to the note which follows this story 
 for the more particular examination which it seems to de- 
 serve.
 
 183 
 
 of father or of mother. He wandered ever on- 
 wards unconscious whither; when he was thirsty, 
 he drank from wayside springs ; when hungry, he 
 begged stale crusts from the women he saw stand- 
 ing at their doors ; and when in need of sleep, he 
 looked out for a heap of straw, and hollowed him- 
 self out a nest in it like a lizard. 
 
 As to any knowledge of a trade, Peronnik 
 had, indeed, never learnt one; but for all that he 
 was skilful enough in many matters : he could 
 go on eating as long as you desired him to do so ; 
 he could outsleep any one for any length of time ; 
 and he could imitate with his tongue the song of 
 larks. There is many a one now in these parts 
 who cannot do so much as this. 
 
 At the time of which I am telling you (that 
 is, many a hundred years ago and more), the land 
 of White-Wheat was not altogether what you see 
 it nowadays. Since then many a gentleman has 
 devoured his inheritance, and cut up his forests 
 into wooden shoes. Thus the forest of Paimpont 
 extended over more than twenty parishes ; some 
 say it even crossed the river, and went as far as 
 Elven, However that may be, Peronnik came 
 one day to a farm built upon the border of the 
 wood ; and as the Benedicite bell had long since 
 rung in his stomach, he drew near to ask for food. 
 
 The farmer's wife happened at that moment 
 to be kneeling down on the door-sill to scrape
 
 184 
 
 the soup-boAvl with her flint-stone f^ but when 
 she heard the idiot's voice asking for food in the 
 name of God, she stopped and held the kettle 
 towards him. 
 
 " Here," she cried, " poor fellow, eat these 
 scrapings, and say an 'Our Father' for our pigs, 
 that nothing on earth will fatten." 
 
 Peronnik seated himself on the ground, put 
 the kettle between his knees, and began to scrape 
 it with his nails ; but it was little enough he could 
 succeed in finding, for all the spoons in the house 
 had already done their duty upon it. However, 
 he licked his fingers, and made an audible grunt 
 of satisfaction, as if he had never tasted any thing 
 better. 
 
 " It is millet-flour," said he, in a low voice, 
 — " millet-flour moistened with the black cow's 
 milk,t and by the best cook in the whole Low 
 Country." 
 
 The farmer's wife, who was going by, turned 
 round delighted. 
 
 " Poor innocent," said she, "there is little 
 enough of it left ; but I will add a scrap of rye- 
 bread." 
 
 * On the sea-coast they scrape away the burnt part left 
 in the porridge-kettles with a mussel-shell ; iu the interior 
 they use for the same purpose a sharp stone, commonly a 
 gun-flint. 
 
 t The milk of the black cow is considered in Brittany 
 to be at once the daintiest and the most wholesome.
 
 185 
 
 And she brought the lad the first cutting of 
 a round loaf just out of the oven. Peronnik bit 
 into it like a wolf into a lamb's leg, and declared 
 that it must have been kneaded by the baker to 
 his lordship the Bishop of Vannes. 
 
 The flattered peasant replied, that was no- 
 thing to the taste of it when spread with fresh- 
 churned butter ; and to prove her words, she 
 brought him some in a little covered saucer. After 
 taking this, the idiot declared that this was living 
 butter, not to be excelled by butter of the White 
 Week itself;* and to give greater force to his 
 words, he poured over his crust all that the saucer 
 contained. But the satisfaction of the farmer's 
 wife prevented her from noticing this ; and she 
 added to what slie had already given him a lump 
 of dripping left from the Sunday soup. 
 
 Peronnik praised every mouthful more and 
 more, and swallowed every thing as if it had been 
 water from a spring ; for it was very long since he 
 had made so good a meal. 
 
 The farmer's wife went and came, watching 
 him as he ate, and adding from time to time 
 sundry scraps, Avhich he took, making each time 
 the sign of the cross. 
 
 * The Bretons attribute to the butter of the White Week 
 and of the Rogatiou weeks a special delicacy, and even 
 medicinal properties, ou account of the excellence of the 
 pastures at this season.
 
 186 
 
 Whilst thus employed in recruiting himself, 
 behold a knight appeared at the house-door, and 
 addressing himself to the woman, asked her which 
 was the road to Kerglas castle. 
 
 " Heavens ! good gentleman," exclaimed the 
 farmer's wife, " are you going there?" 
 
 " Yes," replied the warrior ; " and I have come 
 from a land so distant for this purpose, that I 
 have been travelling night and day these three 
 months to get so far on my way." 
 
 " And what are you come to seek at Kerglas ?" 
 asked the Breton woman. 
 
 " I am come in quest of the golden basin and 
 the diamond lance." 
 
 " These two are, then, very valuable things ?" 
 asked Peronnik. 
 
 " They are of more value than all the crowns 
 on earth," replied the stranger; "for not only 
 will the golden basin produce instantaneously 
 all the dainties and the wealth one can desire, 
 but it suffices to drink therefrom to be healed of 
 every malady ; and the dead themselves are raised 
 to life by touching it with their lips. As to the 
 diamond lance, it kills and overthrows all that 
 it touches." 
 
 "And to whom do this diamond lance and 
 golden basin belong?" asked Peronnik, bewil- 
 dered. 
 
 " To a magician called Rogear, who lives in
 
 187 
 
 the castle of Kerglas," answered the farmer's wife. 
 " He is to be seen any day near the forest path- 
 way, riding along upon his black mare followed 
 by a colt of three months' old; but no one dares 
 to attack him, for he holds the fearful lance in 
 his hand/' 
 
 "Yes," replied the stranger; "but the com- 
 mand of God forbids him to make use of it within 
 the castle of Kerglas. So soon as he arrives there, 
 the lance and the basin are deposited at the bottom 
 of a dark cave, which no key will open; therefore, 
 it is in that place I propose to attack the magi- 
 cian. 
 
 " Alas, you will never succeed, my good sir," 
 replied the peasant woman. "More than a hun- 
 dred gentlemen have already attempted it; but 
 not one amongst them has returned." 
 
 " I know that, my good woman," answered the 
 knight; "but they had not been instructed as I 
 have by the Hermit of Blavet." 
 
 " And what did the Hermit tell you V asked 
 Peronnik. 
 
 " He warned me of all that I shall have to 
 do," replied the stranger. " First of all, I shall 
 have to cross an enchanted wood, wherein every 
 kind of magic will be put in force to terrify and 
 bewilder me from my way. The greater number 
 of my predecessors have lost themselves^ and there 
 died of cold, hunger, or fatigue."
 
 188 
 
 "And if you succeed in crossing it?" said the 
 idiot. 
 
 " If I get safely through it," continued the 
 gentleman, " I shall meet a Korigan armed with 
 a fiery sword, which lays all it touches in ashes. 
 This Korigan keeps watch beside an apple-tree, 
 from which it is necessary that I should gather 
 one apple." 
 
 " And then V said Peronnik. 
 
 " Then I shall discover the laughing flower, 
 and this is guarded by a lion whose mane is made 
 of vipers. This flower I must also gather ; after 
 which I must cross the lake of dragons to fight 
 the black man, who flings an iron bowl that ever 
 hits its mark and returns to its master of its 
 own accord. Then I shall enter on the valley of 
 delights, where every thing that can tempt and 
 stay the feet of a Christian will be arrayed before 
 me, and shall reach a river with one single ford. 
 There I shall meet a lady clad in sable whom I 
 shall take upon my horse's crupper, and she will 
 tell me all that remains to be done." 
 
 The farmer's Avife did her best to persuade 
 the stranger that it would be impossible for him 
 to go through so many trials ; but he replied that 
 women were incapable of judging in so weighty 
 a matter ; and after ascertaining correctly the 
 forest entrance, he set ofl" at full gallop, and was 
 soon lost among the trees.
 
 189 
 
 The farmer's wife heaved a deep sigh, declaring 
 that here was another soul going before our Lord 
 for judgment ; then giving some more crusts to 
 Peronnik, she bade him go on his way. 
 
 He was about to follow her advice, when the 
 farmer came in from the fields. He had just 
 been turning off the lad who looked after his 
 cows at the wood-side, and was revolving in his 
 mind how his place should be supplied. 
 
 The sight of the idiot was to him as a ray of 
 light ; he thought he had happened on the very 
 thing he sought, and after putting a few questions 
 to Peronnik, he asked him bluntly if he would 
 stay at the farm to look after the cattle. Peron- 
 nik would have preferred having no one but 
 himself to look after, for no one had a greater 
 aptitude than he for doing nothing ; but the taste 
 of the lard, the fresh butter, the rye-bread, and 
 the millet-flour hung still sweet upon his lips ; so 
 he suffered himself to be tempted, and accepted 
 the farmer's proposal. 
 
 The good man forthwith conducted him to the 
 edge of the forest, counted aloud all the cows, not 
 forgetting the heifers, cut him a hazel-switch to 
 drive them with, and bade him bring them safely 
 home at set of sun. 
 
 Behold Peronnik now established as a keeper 
 of cattle, watching over them to see they did no 
 mischief, and running from the black to the red,
 
 190 
 
 and from the red to the white, to keep them from 
 straying out of the appointed boundary. 
 
 Now whilst he was thus running from side to 
 side, he heard suddenly the sound of horse's hoofs, 
 and saw in one of the forest-paths the giant Ro- 
 gear seated on his mare, followed by her three- 
 months' colt. He carried from his neck the golden 
 basin, and in his hand the diamond lance, which 
 glittered like flame. Peronnik, terrified, hid him- 
 self behind a bush ; the giant passed close by him 
 and went on his way. As soon as he was gone 
 by, the idiot came out of his hiding-place, and 
 looked down in the direction he had taken, but 
 without being able to see which path he had fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 Well, armed knights came on unceasingly in 
 quest of the castle of Kerglas, and not one was 
 ever seen to return. The giant, on the contrary, 
 took his airing every day as usual. The idiot, who 
 had at length grown bolder, no longer thought of 
 concealing himself when he passed, but looked 
 after him as long as he was in sight with envious 
 eyes ; for the desire of possessing the golden basin 
 and the diamond lance grew stronger every day 
 within his heart. But these things, alas, were 
 more easily desired than obtained. 
 
 One day, when Peronnik was all alone in the 
 pasture-land as usual, he saw a man with a white 
 beard pausing at the entrance of the forest-path.
 
 191 
 
 The idiot took him for some fresh adventurer, 
 and inquired if he did not seek the road to 
 Kerglas. 
 
 '■' I seek it not, since I already know it," replied 
 the stranger. 
 
 " You have been there, and the magician has 
 not killed you ?" exclaimed the idiot. 
 
 " Because he has nothing to fear from me," 
 replied the white-bearded old man. " I am called 
 the sorcerer Bryak, and am Rogear's elder brother. 
 When I wish to pay him a visit I come here, and 
 as, in spite of all my power, I cannot cross the 
 enchanted wood without losing my way, I call the 
 black colt to carry me." 
 
 With these words, he traced three circles Avith 
 his finger in the dust, repeated in a low tone 
 such words as demons teach to sorcerers, and then 
 cried, 
 
 " Colt, wild, unbroken, and with footstep free, — 
 Colt, I am here; come quick, I wait for thee." 
 
 The little horse speedily made his appearance. 
 Bryak put him on a halter, shackled his feet, and 
 then mounting on his back, allowed him to return 
 into the forest. 
 
 Peronnik said nothing of this adventure to 
 any one ; but he now understood that the first 
 step towards visiting Kerglas was to secure the 
 colt that knew the way. Unfortunately he knew 
 neither how to trace the three circles, nor to pro-
 
 192 
 
 nounce the magic words necessary for the colt to 
 hear the summons. Some other method, there- 
 fore, must be hit upon for making himself master 
 of it, and, when once it was captured, of gathering 
 the apple, plucking the laughing flower, escaping 
 the black man's bowl, and of crossing the valley 
 of delights. 
 
 Peronnik thought it all over for a long time, 
 and at last he fancied himself able to succeed. 
 Those who are strong go forth clad in their 
 strength to meet danger, and too often perish in 
 it ; but the weak compass their ends sideways. 
 Having no hope of braving the giant, the idiot 
 resolved to try craft and cunning. As to difB- 
 culties, he suffered them not to scare him : he 
 knew that medlars are hard as flint-stones when 
 first gathered, and that a little straw and much 
 patience softens them at length. 
 
 So he made all his preparations against the 
 time when the giant usually appeared in the forest- 
 path. First he made a halter and a horse-shackle 
 of black hemp ; a springe for taking woodcocks, 
 moistening the hairs of it in holy water ; a cloth- 
 bag full of birdlime and lark's feathers ; a rosary, 
 an elder-whistle, and a bit of crust rubbed with 
 rancid lard. This done, he crumbled the bread 
 given him for breakfast along the pathway in 
 which Rogear, his mare, and three months' colt 
 would shortly pass.
 
 193 
 
 They all three appeared at the usual hour, and 
 crossed the pasture as on other days ; but the colt, 
 which was walking with hanging head, snuffing 
 the ground, smelt out the crumbs of bread, and 
 stopped to eat them, so that it was soon left alone 
 out of the giant's sight. Then Peronnik drew 
 gently near, threw his halter over it, fastened the 
 shackle on two of its feet, jumped upon its back, 
 and left it free to follow its own course, certain 
 that the colt, which knew its way, would carry 
 him to the castle of Kerglas. 
 
 And so it came to pass ; for the young horse 
 took unhesitatingly one of the wildest paths, 
 and went on as rapidly as the shackle would 
 permit. 
 
 Peronnik trembled like a leaf; for all the 
 witchery of the forest was at work to scare him. 
 One moment it seemed as if a bottomless pit 
 yawned suddenly before his steed ; the next all 
 the trees appeared on fire, and he found himself 
 surrounded by flames ; often whilst in the act of 
 crossing a brook, it became as a torrent, and 
 threatened to carry him away ; at other times, 
 whilst following a little footway beneath a gentle 
 slope, he saw huge rocks on the point of rolling 
 down and crushing him to pieces. 
 
 In vain he assured himself these were but 
 magical delusions, he felt his very marrow grow 
 cold with dread. At last he resolutely pulled his 
 

 
 194 
 
 hat down over liis eyes, and let the colt carry him 
 blindly onAvards. 
 
 Thus they both came safely to a plain where 
 all enchantment ceased, and Peronnik pushed up 
 his cap and looked about him. 
 
 It was a barren spot, and gloomier than a 
 cemetery. Here and there might be seen the 
 skeletons of gentlemen who had come in quest of 
 Kerglas Castle. There they lay, stretched beside 
 their horses, and the gray wolves still gnawing at 
 their bones. 
 
 At length the idiot entered a meadow entirely 
 overshadowed by one single apple-tree ; and this 
 was so heavily laden Avith fruit, that the branches 
 hung to the ground. Before this tree the Kori- 
 gan kept watch, grasping in his hand the fiery 
 sword which would lay all it touched in ashes. 
 
 At sight of Peronnik, he uttered a cry like 
 that of a wild bird, and raised his weapon ; but, 
 without betraying any emotion, the lad simply 
 touched his hat politely, and said, 
 
 " Don't disturb yourself, my little prince ; I 
 am only passing by on my way to Kerglas, ac- 
 cording to an appointment the Lord Rogear has 
 made Avith me." 
 
 "With you?" replied the dwarf; "and who, 
 then, may you be?'^ 
 
 " I am our master's new servant," said the 
 idiot; "you know, the one he is expecting."
 
 195 
 
 "I know nothing of it," replied the dwarf; 
 " and you look to me uncommonly like a cheat/^ 
 
 " Excuse me," returned Peronnik, " such is by 
 no means my profession ; I am only a catcher and 
 trainer of birds. But, for God's sake, don't keep 
 me now; for his lordship, the magician, is expect- 
 ing me this very moment ; and has even lent me 
 his own colt, as you see, that I may the sooner 
 reach the castle." 
 
 The Korigan saw, in fact, that Peronnik rode 
 the magician's young horse, and began to consider 
 whether he might not really be speaking truth. 
 Besides, the idiot had so simple an air, that it 
 was not possible to suspect him of inventing such 
 a story. However, he still felt mistrust ; and 
 asked what need the magician had of a bird- 
 catcher ? 
 
 " The greatest need, it seems," said Peronnik ; 
 " for, according to his account, all that ripens, 
 whether seed or fruit, in the garden at Kerglas, is 
 just now eaten up by birds." 
 
 " And what can you do to hinder them ?" 
 asked the dwarf 
 
 Peronnik showed the little snare which he had 
 manufactured, and declared that no bird would be 
 able to escape it. 
 
 " That is just what I will make sure of," said 
 the Korigan. " My apple-tree is ravaged just as 
 much by the blackbirds and thrushes. Set your
 
 196 
 
 snare ; and if you can catch them, I will let you 
 pass/' 
 
 To this Peronnik agreed; he fastened his colt 
 to a bush, and going up to the apple-tree, fixed 
 therein one end of the snare, calling to the Ko- 
 rigan to hold the other whilst he got the skewers 
 ready. He did as the idiot requested; and Pe- 
 ronnik hastily drawing the running noose, the 
 dwarf found himself caught like a bird. 
 
 He uttered a cry of rage, and struggled to get 
 free ; but the springe, having been well steeped in 
 holy water, bade defiance to all his efforts. 
 
 The idiot had time enough to run to the tree, 
 pluck an apple from it, and remount his colt^ 
 which continued its onward course. 
 
 And so they came out of the plain ; and be- 
 hold, there lay a thicket before them, formed of 
 the very loveliest plants. There were to be seen 
 roses of every hue, Spanish brooms, rose-coloured 
 honeysuckles, and, towering above all, the mys- 
 terious laughing flower ; but round about the 
 thicket stalked a lion, with a mane of vipers, roll- 
 ing his eyes, and with his teeth grinding like a 
 couple of new mill-stones. 
 
 Peronnik stopped, and bowed over and over 
 again ; for he knew that in the presence of the 
 poAverful a hat is more serviceable in the hand 
 than on the head. He wished all sorts of prosperi- 
 ties to the lion and his family ; and requested to
 
 197 
 
 know if he was without mistake upon the road to 
 Kerglas. 
 
 " And what are you going to do at Kerglas ?" 
 cried the ferocious beast with a terrible air. 
 
 " May it please your worship/' replied the idiot 
 timidly, " I am in the service of a lady who is 
 a great friend of Lord Rogear, and she has sent 
 him something as a present to make a lark-pasty 
 of" 
 
 " Larks !" repeated the lion, licking his mous- 
 tache ; "it is an age since I have tasted them. 
 HoAv many have you got ?" 
 
 " This bagful, your lordship," replied Peron- 
 nik, showing the cloth-bag which he had stuifed 
 with feathers and birdlime. 
 
 And in order to verify his words, he began to 
 counterfeit the warbling of larks. 
 
 This song aggravated the lion's appetite. 
 
 " Let me see," said he, drawing near ; " show 
 me your birds ; I should like to know if they are 
 large enough to be served up at our master's 
 table." 
 
 " I desire nothing so much," replied the idiot ; 
 " but if I open the bag, I am afraid they will fly 
 away." 
 
 " Half open it, just to let me peep in," said 
 the greedy monster. 
 
 This desire fulfilled Peronnik's highest hopes ; 
 he offered the bag to the lion, who poked in his
 
 198 
 
 head to seize the larks, and found himself smo- 
 thered in feathers and birdHme. The idiot hastily 
 drew the strings of the bag tight round his neck, 
 making the sign of the cross over the knot, to 
 keep it inviolable ; then, rushing to the laughing 
 flower, he gathered it, and set off as fast as the 
 colt could go. 
 
 But it was not long before he came to the 
 dragons' lake, which he must needs cross by 
 swimming ; and scarcely had he plunged in, when 
 they came towards him from every side to devour 
 him. 
 
 This time Peronnik troubled not himself to 
 pull off his hat, but he began to throAv out to 
 them the beads of his rosary, as one would scatter 
 black wheat to ducks ; and at every bead swal- 
 lowed one of the dragons turned over on its back 
 and expired ; so that he at length reached the 
 opposite shore unharmed. 
 
 The valley guarded by the black man had 
 now to be crossed. Peronnik soon perceived him, 
 chained by one foot to the rock, and holding in 
 his hand an iron bowl, which ever returned, of its 
 own accord, so soon as it had struck the appointed 
 mark. He had six eyes, ranged round his head, 
 which generally took turns in keeping watch ; but 
 at this moment it so chanced that they were every 
 one open. Peronnik, knowing that if seen he 
 should be struck by the iron bowl before he had
 
 199 
 
 the opportunity of speaking a word, resolved to 
 creep along the brushwood. And by this means, 
 hiding himself carefully behind the bushes, he 
 soon found himself within a few steps of the black 
 man, who had just sat down, and closed two of 
 his eyes in repose. Peronnik, guessing that he 
 was sleepy, began to chant in a drowsy voice the 
 beginning of the High Mass. The black man at 
 jfirst, taken by surprise, started, and raised his 
 head ; but, as the murmur took effect upon him, 
 a third eye closed. Peronnik then went on to 
 intone the Kyrie eleison, in the tone of one pos- 
 sessed 'by the sleepy demon.^ The black man 
 closed a fourth eye, and half the fifth. Peronnik 
 then began Vespers ; but before he had reached 
 the Magnificat, the black man slept soundly. 
 
 Then the youth, taking the colt by the bridle, 
 led it softly over mossy places ; and so, passing 
 close by the slumbering guardian, he came into 
 the valley of delights. 
 
 This was the most-to-be-dreaded place of 
 all ; for it was no longer a question of avoiding 
 positive danger, but of fleeing from temptation. 
 Peronnik called all the saints of Brittany to his 
 aid. 
 
 The valley through which he was now passing 
 
 * The Bretons believe in a special demon for sending one 
 to sleep in church, and call him ar c'houslcezik, from the 
 verb kouska, which signifies to sleep. 
 
 V
 
 200 
 
 bore every appearance of a garden richly filled 
 with fruits, with flowers, and with fountains ; but 
 the fountains were of wines and delicious drinks, 
 the flowers sang with voices as sweet as those of 
 cherubim in Paradise, and the fruits came of their 
 own accord and ofi'ered themselves to the hand. 
 Then at every turning of the path Peronnik be- 
 held huge tables, spread as for a king, could scent 
 the tempting odour of pastry drawn fresh from 
 the oven, and see the valets apparently expecting 
 him ; whilst further oflT were beautiful maidens 
 coming to dance upon the turf, who called him by 
 his name to come and lead the ball. 
 
 In vain the idiot made the sign of the cross, 
 insensibly he slackened the pace of his colt, in- 
 voluntarily he raised his face to snuiF up the de- 
 licious odour of the smoking dishes, and to gaze 
 more fixedly upon the lovely maidens ; he would 
 possibly have stopped altogether, and there would 
 have been an end of him, if the recollection of 
 the golden basin and the diamond lance had not 
 all at once crossed his mind. Then he instantly 
 began to blow his elder-whistle, that he might 
 hear no more those soft appeals ; to eat his bread 
 well rubbed with rancid dripping, to deaden the 
 odour of the dainty meats ; and to stare fixedly 
 on his horse's ears, that the lovely dancers might 
 no more attract his eyes. 
 
 And so he came to the end of the garden quite
 
 201 
 
 safely, and caught sight at last of Kerglas Castle. 
 But the river of Avhich he had been told still lay 
 between it and him, and he knew that this river 
 could only be forded in one place. Happily the 
 colt was familiar with this ford, and prepared 
 to enter at the right spot. 
 
 Then Peronnik looked around him in quest of 
 the lady who Avas to be his guide to the castle ; 
 and soon perceived her seated on a rock, clad in 
 black satin, and her countenance as yellow as a 
 Moor's. 
 
 The idiot pulled off his hat, and asked if it 
 was her pleasure to cross the river. 
 
 " I expected thee for that very purpose," 
 replied the lady ; " draw near, that I may seat 
 myself behind thee." 
 
 Peronnik approached, took her on his horse's 
 crupper, and began to cross the ford. He had 
 almost reached the middle of it, when the lady 
 said to him, 
 
 " Knowest thou who I am, poor innocent ?" 
 
 " I beg your pardon," replied Peronnik, " but 
 from your dress I clearly see that you are a noble 
 and powerful lady." 
 
 " As to noble, I ought to be," replied the lady, 
 " for I can trace back my origin to the first sin ; 
 and powerful I certainly am, for all nations give 
 way before me."
 
 202 
 
 '•' Then what is your name, may it please you, 
 madam V asked Peronnik. 
 
 " I am called the Plague," replied the yellow- 
 woman. 
 
 The idiot made a spring as if he would have 
 thrown himself from his horse into the water ; 
 but the Plague said to him, 
 
 "Rest easy, poor innocent, thou hast nothing 
 to fear from me ; on the contrary, I can be of 
 service to thee." 
 
 " Is it possible that you will be so benevolent, 
 Madam Plague ?" said Peronnik, taking his hat off, 
 this time for good ; " by the by, I now remember 
 that it is you who are to teach me hoAv to rid 
 myself of the magician Rogear." 
 
 " The magician must die," said the yellow 
 lady. 
 
 "I should like nothing better," replied Pe- 
 ronnik ; " but he is immortal." 
 
 " Listen, and try to understand," said the 
 Plague. " The apple-tree guarded by the Korigan 
 is a slip from the tree of good and evil, set in the 
 earthly Paradise by God Himself. Its fruit, like 
 that which was eaten by Adam and Eve, renders 
 immortals susceptible of death. Try, then, to in- 
 duce the magician to taste the apple, and from 
 that moment he need only be touched by me to 
 sink in death."
 
 203 
 
 " I will try," said Peronnik ; " but even if I 
 succeed, how can I obtain the golden basin and 
 the diamond lance, since they lie hidden in a 
 gloomy cave, which cannot be opened by any key 
 yet forged ?" 
 
 " The laughing flower will open every door," 
 replied the Plague, "and can illuminate the dark- 
 est night." 
 
 As she spoke these words they reached the 
 further bank of the river, and the idiot went on- 
 wards to the castle. 
 
 Now there was before the entrance-hall a 
 huge canopy, like that which is carried over his 
 lordship the Bishop of Vannes at the processions 
 of the FeteDieu. Beneath this sat the giant, shel- 
 tered from the heat of the sun, his legs crossed, 
 like a proprietor who has gathered in his harvest, 
 and smoking a tobacco-pipe of virgin gold. On 
 perceiving the colt, on which sat Peronnik and 
 the lady clad in black satin, he lifted up his 
 head, and cried in a voice which roared like 
 thunder, 
 
 " Why this idiot is mounted on my three- 
 months' colt !" 
 
 " The very same, greatest of all magicians," 
 replied Peronnik. 
 
 " And how did you get possession of him ?" 
 asked Rogear. 
 
 " I repeated what your brother Bryak taught
 
 204 
 
 me," replied the idiot. " On reaching the forest 
 border I said, 
 
 ' Colt, wild, unbroken, and with footstep free, — 
 Colt, I am here ; come quick, I wait for thee.' 
 
 and the little horse came at once." 
 
 " Then you know my brother ?" said the 
 giant. 
 
 " As one knows his master," replied the youth. 
 
 " And what has he sent you here for V 
 
 " To bring you a present of two curiosities he 
 has just received from the country of the Moors, 
 — this apple of delight, and the female slave whom 
 you see there. If you eat the first, you will al- 
 Avays have a heart as much at rest as that of a 
 poor man who has found a purse of a hundred 
 crowns in his wooden shoe ; and if you take the 
 second into your service, you will have nothing 
 left you to desire in the world." 
 
 " Give me then the ?pple, and make the Moor- 
 ish woman dismount," replied Rogear. 
 
 The idiot obeyed ; but the instant the giant 
 had set his teeth into the fruit, the yellow lady 
 laid her hand upon him, and he fell to the ground 
 like a bullock in the slaughter-house. 
 
 Then Peronnik entered the palace, holding the 
 laughing flower in his hand. He traversed more 
 than fifty halls, one after the other, and came at 
 length before the cavern with the silver door. 
 This opened of its own accord before the flower,
 
 205 
 
 which also gave the idiot sufficient light to find 
 the golden basin and the diamond lance. 
 
 But scarcely had he seized them when the 
 earth shook under his feet ; a terrible clap of 
 thunder was heard ; the palace disappeared ; and 
 Peronnik found himself once more in the midst 
 of the forest, holding his two talismans, with 
 which he set forward instantly to the court of 
 the King of Brittany. 
 
 He only delayed long enough at Vannes to 
 buy the richest costume he could find there, and 
 the finest horse that was for sale in the diocese 
 of White-Wheat. 
 
 Now when he came to Nantes, this town was 
 besieged by the Franks, who had so mercilessly 
 ravaged the surrounding country, that there were 
 scarcely more trees left than would serve a single 
 goat for forage ; and more than that, famine was 
 in the city ; and those soldiers died of hunger 
 whose wounds had spared their lives. And on 
 the very day of Peronnik"s arrival, a trumpeter 
 proclaimed aloud in every street that the King 
 of Brittany would adojtt that man as his heir 
 who could deliver the city, and drive the enemy 
 out of the country. 
 
 Hearing this promise, Peronnik said to tlie 
 trumpeter, 
 
 " Proclaim no more, but lead me to the king ; 
 for I am able to do all he asks."
 
 206 
 
 "Thou \" said the herald, seeing him so young 
 and small ; " go on thy way, fine goldfinch ;* the 
 king has now no time for taking little birds from 
 cottage-roofs."-f- 
 
 By way of reply, Peronnik touched the soldier 
 with his lance ; and that very instant he fell dead, 
 to the infinite terror of the croAvd who looked on, 
 and would have fled away ; but the idiot cried, 
 
 "You have just seen what I can do against 
 my enemies ; know now what is in my power for 
 my friends/' 
 
 And having touched with his golden basin 
 the dead man's lips, he rose up instantly, restored 
 to life. 
 
 The king being informed of this wonder, gave 
 Peronnik command of all the soldiers he had left ; 
 and as with his diamond lance the idiot killed 
 thousands of the Franks, and with his golden 
 basin restored to life the Bretons who were slain, 
 a very few days sufficed him for putting an end 
 to the enemy's army, and taking possession of all 
 their camp contained. 
 
 He then proposed to conquer all the neigh- 
 b'^uring countries, such as Anjou, Poitou, and 
 Normandy, which cost him but very little trouble ; 
 
 * Koanta palaour, a common form of mockery in Brit- 
 tany. 
 
 t A proverbial expression, meaning that one has no 
 time to lose.
 
 207 
 
 and finally, when all were in obedience to the 
 king, he declared his intention of setting out to 
 deliver the Holy Land, and embarked from Nantes 
 in a magnificent fleet, with the first nobility of 
 the land. 
 
 On reaching Palestine, he performed great 
 deeds of valour, compelled many Saracens to be 
 baptised, and married a fair maiden, by whom he 
 had many sons and daughters, to each of whom 
 he gave wealth and lands. Some even say that, 
 thanks to the golden basin, he and his sons are 
 living still, and reign in this land; but others 
 maintain that Rogear's brother, the magician 
 Bryak, has succeeded in regaining possession of 
 the two talismans, and that those who wish for 
 them have only — to seek them out. 
 
 Note on the Tale op " Peronnik the Idiot." 
 
 It seems almost impossible not to recognise in the story 
 of Peronnik the Idiot traces of that tradition which has 
 given birth to one of the epic romances of the Round 
 Table. Disfigured and overlaid with modern details as is 
 the Breton version, the primitive idea of the Quest of the 
 Holy Graal may still be found there pure and entire. 
 
 Some explanation must be given of this. So early as 
 the sixth century, the Gallic bards speak of a magic vase 
 which bestows a knowledge of the future, and universal 
 science, on its owner ; in later times a popular fiible tells of 
 a golden vase possessed by Bran the Blessed, which healed 
 all wounds, and even restored the dead to life. Other
 
 208 
 
 tales are told of a basin in which every desired delicacy in- 
 stantly appeared. In time all these fictions become fused, 
 and the several properties of these different vases are found 
 united iu one ; the possession of which is of course natu- 
 rally sought after by all great adventurers. 
 
 There is still extant a Gallic poem, composed in the 
 beginning of the twelfth century, of which the whole bur- 
 den is this quest. The hero, named Peredur, goes to war 
 with giants, lions, serpents, sea -monsters, sorcerers, and 
 finally becomes conqueror of the basin and the lance, which 
 is here added to the primitive tradition. 
 
 Now there can be no doubt that this Gallic legend, 
 which found its way throughout Europe, as is proved by the 
 attempts at imitation which have been made in every lan- 
 guage, must have been known in Brittany above all, united 
 as it is to Gaul by a common origin and language. It must 
 have become popular in the very form it wore when taught 
 by the bards to the Armoricans. 
 
 But besides the successive alterations which are the 
 speedy result of oral transmission, French imitations by 
 degrees incorporated themselves with all the primitive ver- 
 sions. M. de la Villemarque has in fact observed, in his 
 learned work on the Popular Tales of the Ancient Bretons, 
 that when the Gallic legends were developed by the French 
 poets, they appeared so beautified in their new costume, that 
 the Gauls themselves abandoned the originals in favour of 
 the imitations. Now that which is true of them is equally 
 so of the Armoricans ; and it seems to us beyond a doubt 
 that the tradition of Peredur, which they had originally 
 received, must have been seriously modified by the later 
 poem of Christian of Troyes. 
 
 In order to elucidate our idea, we will give a hasty 
 analysis of this poem, which is little known, being only 
 extant in manuscript.* 
 
 * The Searcher for the Basin, — Myvyrian, t. i. p. 8. The 
 poem of Perceval, or the Quest for the Holy Graal, is to be 
 found in the Royal Library of Paris, Mss. No. 7523, et supp. 
 franc. 450. We give M. de la Villemarque's analysis, con- 
 tenting ourselves with abridging his labours.
 
 209 
 
 Perceval, the last remaining son of a poor widow, whom 
 the miseries of war had left destitute, is simple, ignorant, 
 and boorish. His mother carefully conceals from his sight 
 every thing that might turn his attention to the idea of 
 war; but one day the lad meets King Arthur's knights, 
 learns the secret so long hidden from him, and, his mind 
 filled with nothing now but tournaments and battles, aban- 
 dons his maternal roof and sets off for Arthur's court. On 
 the way he sees a pavilion, which, taking in his simplicity 
 for a church, he enters. There he eats two roebuck pasties, 
 and drinks a large flagon of wine ; after which he goes once 
 more upon his way, and soon arrives at Cardeuil, ill-clad, 
 ill-armed, and ill-mounted. He finds Arthur buried in 
 profound meditation, a treacherous knight having just 
 carried off his golden cup, defying any warrior to take it 
 from him again. Perceval accepts the challenge, pursues 
 the thief, kills him, recovers the cup, and seizes on the 
 slain knight's armour. He is at length admitted into the 
 order of chivalry. 
 
 But the recollection of his mother haunts him every 
 where. What is he in quest of? He himself knows not ; 
 he wanders at random and without a purpose wherever his 
 wild courser carries him. Thus one day he reaches a castle, 
 and enters. A sick old man reposes there upon a bed ; a 
 servant appears with a lance fi-om which flows one drop of 
 blood, and then a damsel bearing a graal, or basin, of pure 
 gold. Perceval longs to know the meaning of what he 
 sees, but dares not ask. The following day, on leaving the 
 castle, he is informed that the sick old man is called the 
 fisher-king, and that he has been wounded in the thigh ; 
 Perceval is at the same time reproached for not having 
 questioned him. 
 
 He continues onwards, meeting by chance Arthur, whom 
 he follows to court ; but the day after his arrival a lady 
 
 P
 
 210 
 
 clad in black appears to him, and warmly blames him for 
 being the cause of the fisher-king's sufferings. 
 
 "His wound," said she, "has become incurable, be- 
 cause thou didst not question him." 
 
 The knight, wishing to repair his fault, seeks in vain 
 to find once more the king's palace ; he is repulsed as by 
 an invisible hand, until the moment when he resolves to go 
 and find a saintly hermit, to whom he makes his confession. 
 The priest shows him that all his errors are owing to his 
 ingratitude towards his mother, and that sin held his tongue 
 in bondage when he ought to have inquired the meaning of 
 the graal; he imposes a penance on him, gives him advice, 
 reveals to him a mysterious prayer containing certain ter- 
 rible words, which he forbids him from making known ; and 
 then Perceval, absolved from his sins, fasts, adores the Cross, 
 hears Mass, receives Holy Communion, and returns to a 
 new life. 
 
 He now sets forth in quest of the graal, and meets 
 with a thousand obstacles. A woman, whom he has loved, 
 White-Flower, appears, and endeavours to detain him ; but 
 he escapes from her. He fastens his horse to the golden 
 ring of a pillar rising on a mountain called the jNIount of 
 Misery, arrives at length at the castle for which he sought, 
 and this time fails not to inquire into the history of the 
 lance and the graal. He is told that the lance is that with 
 which Longus pierced the side of Christ, and that the graal 
 is the basin in which Joseph of Arimathea received His 
 divine blood. This has come down by inheritance to the 
 fisher-king, who is descended from Joseph, ^and is Perce- 
 val's uncle. It procures all good things, both spiritual and 
 temporal, heals all wounds, and even restores life to the 
 dead, besides becoming filled with the most delicious dain- 
 ties at its owner's desire. 
 
 After the lance and the graal, they bring out a broken
 
 211 
 
 sword ; the fieher-king presents it to his nephew, begging 
 him to reunite the fragments ; in which he succeeds. The 
 king then tells him that, according to prophecies, the bravest 
 and most pious knight in the whole world was to perform 
 this act ; that he himself had attempted to weld the pieces 
 together, but had been chastised for his rashness by receiv- 
 ing a wound in the thigh. " I shall be healed," he added, 
 "on the same day that sees the knight Pertiniax perish, — 
 that treacherous knight who broke this wonderful sword in 
 slaying my brother." 
 
 Perceval kills Pertiniax, thanks to the aid of the holy 
 graal, cuts off his head, and brings it to the fisher-king, 
 who gets well, and abdicates in favour of his nephew. 
 
 The points of accordance between this poem and the 
 Breton story are not very difficult to trace. In the two 
 recitals we hear of the conquest of a basin and a lance, the 
 possession of which ensures corresponding advantages ; the 
 heroes both of the French and Armoricau version are sub- 
 jected to dangers and temptations, and success assures to 
 them alike — a crown. Some points of resemblance may 
 even perhaps be discovered between the idiot Peronnik, 
 going ever onwards he knows not whither, and extracting 
 from the farmer's wife his rye-bread, his fresh-chumed but- 
 ter, and his Sunday dripping ; and this Perceval, simple, 
 ignorant, boorish, who begins by eating two roebuck pasties, 
 and drinking a great flagon of wine. 
 
 Certainly the different details, and the trials imposed 
 on Peronnik, are not in general much like the probation 
 to which Perceval was subjected ; but, on the other hand, 
 they closely resemble those to which Peredur, the hero of 
 the Gallic tradition, was exposed. It would seem, therefore, 
 that this Armorican story has drunk successively from the 
 two fountains of French and Breton legendary lore. Bom 
 of the Gallic tradition, modified by the French version, and 
 finally accommodated to the popular genius of our province, 
 it has become such as we have it at this day.
 
 212 
 
 Peronnik the idiot seeras, moreover, to us worthy of 
 being studied by those who seek, above all else in tradition, 
 for traces of the popular genius. Idiotism, amongst all 
 tribes of Celtic race, was never looked on as a degradation, 
 but rather as a peculiar condition wherein individuals could 
 attain to certain perceptions unknown to the vulgar ; and 
 the Celts were led to imagine that they had an acquaintance 
 with the invisible world not permitted to other men. Thus 
 the words of the idiot were looked on as prophetic ; a hid- 
 den meaning was sought for in his acts ; he was, in fact, con- 
 sidered, in the energetic language of an old poet, as having 
 his feet in this world, and his eyes in the other. 
 
 Brittany has preserved in part this ancient reverence 
 for persons of weak mind. It is by no means unusual in 
 the farms of Leon to see some of these unfortunates, clad, 
 whatever may be their age, in a long dress with bone but- 
 tons, and holding a white wand in their hands. They are 
 tenderly cared for, and only spoken of under the endearing 
 title of dear innocents, unless in their absence, when they 
 are called dishyant, that is to say, without knowledge. They 
 stay at home with the women and little children ; they are 
 never called upon to perform any labour ; and when they 
 die, they are wept over by their relations. 
 
 I remember meeting with one of these idiots one day, 
 m the neighbourhood of Morlaix ; he was seated before a 
 farm-house door, and his sis-ker, a young girl, was feeding 
 him. Her caressing kindness struck me. 
 
 " Then you are very fond of this poor innocent .?" I asked, 
 in Breton. 
 
 " It is God who gave him to us," she replied. 
 
 Words full of meaning, which hold the key to all this 
 pious tenderness for creatures useless in themselves, but 
 precious for His sake by whom they were confided to our care.
 
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