“With all my heart,” said the lad, “if mother will say yes.”
He then ran quickly home, and cried out,—
“Mother! mother! May I grow up a big man?”
“To be sure!” said his mother. “What’s to hinder?”
“Well,” said the lad, “I shall go now to live with the giant, and he will teach me.”
Then his mother began to weep and to wail most bitterly, and to say, “O no! O no!”
But when the little boy said he was not afraid, and told how stout he would grow and how he would take care of her, and how proud she should be of such a big son, she wiped her tears and gave him her consent. So Brondé ran to the forest, and cried out, “Sir giant! sir giant! I am ready.” And then the giant put him in his pocket, and walked away.
And Brondé lived a year in the cave; and the giant fed him with something which caused him to grow very big and very tall and very strong. This something was a mountain herb which giants fed upon, and may, no doubt, be still found in that region, only that no one knows the spot where it grows.
Brondé, as I said, grew very large and strong, and would, no doubt, have some day become a giant himself, had his stout friend lived long enough.
But the giant grew sick, and laid him down to die. Knowing that his end was near, he called Brondé close to his mouth, and said to him:—