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 how to rid myself of the magician Rogéar.”
“The magician must die,” said the yellow lady.
“I should like nothing better,” replied Peronnik; “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 induce the magician to taste the apple, and from that moment he need only be touched by me to sink in death.”
“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 darkest night.”
As she spoke these words they reached the further bank of the river, and the idiot went onwards 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 Fête Dieu. Beneath this sat the giant, sheltered 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,