“Houarn, save us, if thou wouldst thyself be saved.”
“Holy Virgin! what are these little men singing out from amongst the melted butter?” cried the Léonard, in bewilderment.
“We are Christians like thyself,” they answered. “We too came to seek our fortunes in the Isle of Lok; we too consented to marry the Groac’h; and the day after the wedding she did with us as she had done with all our predecessors, of whom the fish-pond in the garden is full.”
“What!” cried Houarn, “a creature so young and fair, and yet so wicked?”
“And thou wilt soon be in the same condition, subject thyself to be fried and eaten by some new-comer.”
Houarn gave a jump, as though he felt himself already in the golden frying-pan, and ran towards the door, thinking only how he might escape before the Groac’h should return. But she was already there, and had heard all; her net of steel was soon thrown over the Léonard, who found himself instantly transformed into a frog, in which guise the fairy carried him to the fish-pond, and threw him in, to keep her former husbands company.
At this moment the little bell, which Houarn wore round his neck, tinkled of its own accord; and Bellah heard it at Lanillis, where she was busy skimming the last night’s milk.
The sound struck upon her heart like a funeral knell; and she cried aloud, “Houarn is in danger!” And without a moment’s delay, without asking counsel of any as to what she should do, she ran and put on her Sunday clothes, her shoes and silver cross, and set out from the farm with her magic staff. Arrived where four roads met, she set the stick upright in the ground, murmuring in a low voice,—
“List, thou crab-tree staff of mine!
By good St. Vouga, hear me!