“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 head to seize the larks, and found himself smothered in feathers and birdlime. 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 throw out to them the beads of his rosary, as one would scatter black wheat to ducks; and at every bead swallowed 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 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 first, 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 possessed by the sleepy demon.[5] 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 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 offered themselves to the hand. Then at every turning of the path Peronnik beheld 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 off 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, involuntarily he raised his face to snuff up the delicious 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.