"We Bretons are plain-spoken people," replied the steward; "we go straight to the point. Marriage or prison, which do you choose?"
"Oh!" cried Finette, laying down the distaff, "there are the firebrands falling all over the room."
"Don't trouble yourself," said the steward; "I will pick them up."
"Lay them carefully on the top of the ashes," returned Finette. "Have you the tongs?"
"Yes," said the steward, picking up the crackling coals.
"Abracadabra!" cried Finette, rising. "Villain, may the tongs hold you, and may you hold the tongs till sunset!"
No sooner said than done. The wicked steward stood there all day with the tongs in his hand, picking up and throwing back the burning coals that snapped in his face and the hot ashes that flew into his eyes. It was useless for him to shout, pray, weep, and blaspheme; no one heard him. If Finette had stayed at home, she would doubtless have taken pity on him; but after putting the spell upon him, she hastened to the seashore, where, forgetting everything else, she watched for Yvon in vain.
The moment that the sun set, the tongs fell from the steward's hands. He did not stop to finish his errand, but ran as if the devil or justice were at his heels. He made such leaps, he uttered such groans, he was so blackened, scorched, and benumbed, that every one in the village was afraid of him, thinking that he was mad. The boldest tried to speak to him, but he fled without answering, and hid himself in his house, more ashamed than a wolf that has left his paw in the trap.
At evening, when Finette returned home in despair, instead of the steward she found another visitor little less formidable. The bailiff had heard the story of the guineas and had also made up his mind to marry the stranger. He was not rough, like the steward, but a fat, good-natured man that could not speak without bursting into a laugh, showing his great yellow teeth, and puffing and blowing like an ox, though at heart he was not less obstinate or less threatening than his predecessor. Finette entreated the bailiff to leave her alone. He laughed, and hinted to her, in a good-natured way, that, by right of his office, he had the power to imprison and hang people without process of law. She clasped her hands and begged him with tears to go. For his only answer, he took a roll of parchment from his pocket, wrote on it a contract of marriage, and declared to Finette that, should he stay all night, he would not leave the house till she had signed the promise.
"Nevertheless," said he, "if you do not like my person, I have another parchment here on which I will write an agreement to live apart; and if my sight annoys you you have only to shut your eyes."