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 need 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 surprise and consternation, sure that his cousin would hasten to denounce him before the magistrates; 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 God 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 except my darling Liçzenn. 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 received 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 profit. 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.