Then the dancers made way for the farmer and his wife, who reached the old mother safely, and comforted her last hours.
When they returned to their own homes they told what they had seen and heard. Some of the villagers were still too much afraid of the Korrigans to venture, but others armed themselves with fourches, and hastened to the valley when night had fallen. All of these witnessed the famous dance, but none felt inclined to join it.
In a neighbouring village two tailors dwelt, and they were as anxious as the rest to see the Korrigans. The elder was a tall and handsome fellow named Jean, but in spite of his inches he had no pluck, and was idle as well as vain. The other was Peric, a red-haired hunchback, so kind and lovable in spite of his looks that if ever a neighbour were in trouble, it was to Peric he went first. Though the hunchback and Jean shared the same business, the latter was always gibing at Peric, and left him to do most of the work.
‘Since you’re so courageous,’ he sneered, one fine warm night when he and Peric had stayed behind in the valley to watch the Korrigans, ‘suppose you ask them to let you join their dance. Your hump should make you safe with them, for they are not likely to fall in love with you.’
‘All right,’ said Peric cheerfully, though at this unkind reference to his deformity his face had flushed. And taking off his cap he approached the whirling Elves.
‘May I dance with you?’ he asked politely, dropping his fourche to show he trusted them.
‘You’re more brave than good looking,’ they replied, their feet still moving to the same quick measure. ‘Are you not afraid that we shall work you ill?’
‘Not a bit!’ answered Peric, joining hands with them; and he started to sing as lustily as they:—
‘Dilun, Dimeurs, Dimerc’her,’
which means ‘Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.’ After a while he grew tired of singing these three words so often, and went on of his own accord:—