The fork carry they!”
Guilcher instantly perceived that the instrument 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 rendered this service to the Bretons; he was an inquisitive 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 conscientiously 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-Dervenn.
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?”
“Excuse me, my good folks,” replied Guilcher, “but your breath is too long for a poor invalid.”