"Well answered, my grandson!"
"And, on my part, I maintain that the Korrigans are, on the contrary, sweet and serviceable. Do you know the valley of Helle?"
"Yes, my dare-devil."
"One time the finest hay in the world was to be got in that valley—
" 'Hay from Helle, perfumed hay.' "
"Well, that was thanks to the Korrigans—"
"Indeed? Tell me how—"
"When the time for mowing and haymaking came around, the Korrigans arrived and camped on the crests of the rocks around the valley to watch over the meadow. If during the day the sun parched the grass too much, the Korrigans caused a plentiful dew to drop. When the grass was mowed, they scattered the clouds that might have interfered with the making of hay. A foolish and wicked bishop wanted to chase away the pretty and kind fairies. He caused a large heather fire to be kindled early one night all over the rocks; when these were sufficiently hot, the ashes, were all carefully removed. At their regular hour, and suspecting nothing, the dear Korrigans came to hold watch over the meadow, but they instantly burned their feet on the hot rocks. They then wept and cried: 'Oh! Wicked world! Oh! Wicked world!' Since then they never more returned to the place, and as a consequence, ever since, the hay has been either rotted by the rain, or burned by the sun in the valley of Helle. That is what comes of being unkind to the Korrigans. No, I shall not die happy if I do not see at least one of them—"
"Children, children, put no faith in such witcheries; above all never wish to witness any. It brings bad luck—"
"What, mother, simply because I desire to see a Korrigan, some misfortune will befall me? What kind of misfortune?"