She meanwhile encouraged him to drink, telling him he need be in no fear of robbing her, for that the lake in the Isle of Lok communicated with the sea, and that all the treasures swallowed up by shipwrecks were conveyed thither by a magic current.
“I do not wonder,” cried Houarn, emboldened at once by the wine and the manner of his hostess, “that the people on shore speak so badly of you; in fact, it just comes to this, that you are rich, and they are envious. For my part, I should be very well content with the half of your fortune.”
“It shall be yours if you will, Houarn,” said the fairy.
“My husband, the Korandon, is dead,” she answered, “so that I am now a widow; if you like me well enough, I will become your wife.”
Houarn quite lost his breath for very wonderment. For him to marry that beautiful creature! to dwell in that splendid palace! and to drink to his heart’s content of the eight sorts of wine! True, he was engaged to Bellah; but men easily forget such promises,—indeed, for that they are just like women. So he gallantly assured the fairy that one so lovely must be irresistible, and that it would be his pride and joy to become her husband.
Thereupon the Groac’h exclaimed that she would forthwith make ready the wedding-feast. She spread a table, which she covered with all the delicacies that the Léonard had ever heard of, besides a great many unknown to him even by name; and then proceeding to a little fish-pond at the bottom of the garden, she began to call, and at each call up swam a fish, which she successively caught in a steel net. When the net was full, she carried it into the next room, and threw all the fish into a golden frying-pan.
But it seemed to Houarn as though there was a whispering of little voices amidst the hissing of the pan.
“What is that whispering in the frying-pan, Groac’h?” he asked.
“It is the crackling of the wood,” said she, stirring the fire.