Now, in olden times, when there was neither conscription nor general taxation, there dwelt in the largest of these farms an honest man, called Jalm Riou, who had a comely daughter, Barbaik. Not only was she fair and well-fashioned, but she was the best dancer, and also the best drest, in all those parts. When she set off on Sunday to hear Mass at St. Mathieu’s church, she used to wear an embroidered coif, a gay neckerchief, five petticoats one over the other,[2] and silver buckles in her shoes; so that the very butchers’ wives were jealous, and tossing their heads as she went by, they asked her whether she had been selling the devil her black hen.[3] But Barbaik troubled herself not at all for all they said, so long as she continued to be the best-dressed damsel, and the most attractive at the fair of the patron saint.
Barbaik had many suitors, and among them was one who really loved her more than all the rest; and this was the lad who worked upon her father’s farm, a good labourer and a worthy Christian, but rough and ungainly in appearance. So Barbaik would have nothing to say to him, in spite of his good qualities, and always declared, when speaking of him, that he was a colt of Pontrieux.[4]
Jégu, who loved her with all his heart, was deeply wounded, and fretted sorely at being so ill-used by the only creature that could give him either joy or trouble.
One morning, when bringing home the horses from the field, he stopped to let them drink at the pond; and as he stood holding the smallest one, with his head sunk upon his breast, and uttering every now and then the heaviest sighs, for he was thinking of Barbaik, he heard suddenly a voice proceeding from the reeds, which said to him,
“Why are you so miserable, Jégu? things are not yet quite so desperate.”
The farmer’s boy raised his head astonished, and asked who was there.
“It is I, the Teuz-à-pouliet,” said the same voice.
“I do not see you,” replied Jégu.
“Look closely, and you will see me in the midst of the reeds, under the form of a beautiful green frog. I take successively whatever form I like, unless I prefer making myself invisible.”
“But can you not show yourself under the usual appearance of your kind?”