“You are having a strange conversation, mademoiselle,” he said. She coloured and looked somewhat confused.
“Well, sir,” she replied, “it is hateful to be mocked by these wenches because I have the bad luck to be espoused to a seigneur with a horse’s head, and I assure you I feel so angry that I shall certainly carry out my threat.”
The unknown laughed shortly and went his way. In time the night of the nuptials arrived. A grand fête was held at the château, and, the ceremony over, the bridesmaids conducted the young wife to her chamber. The bridegroom shortly followed, and to the surprise of his wife, no sooner had the hour of sunset come than his horse’s head disappeared and he became exactly as other men. Approaching the bed where his bride lay, he suddenly seized her, and before she could cry out or make the least clamour he killed her in the manner in which she had threatened to kill him.
In the morning his mother came to the chamber, and was horrified at the spectacle she saw.
“Gracious heavens! my son, what have you done?” she cried.
“I have done that, my mother,” replied her son, “which was about to be done to me.”
Three months afterward the young seigneur asked his mother to repair once more to the farmer with the request that another of his daughters might be given him in marriage. The second daughter, ignorant of the manner of her sister’s death, and mindful of the splendid wedding festivities, embraced the proposal with alacrity. Like her sister, she chanced to be passing the washing-green of the castle one day, and the laundresses, knowing of her espousal, taunted her 140 upon it, so that at last she grew very angry and cried:
“I won’t be troubled long with the animal, I can assure you, for on the very night that I wed him I shall kill him like a pig!”
At that very moment the same unknown gentleman who had overheard the fatal words of her sister passed, and said: