“But my godmother says that one of the lords of the castle became a fairy’s knight, and kept his tryst with her here under this very tree at eventide; so there must be fairies,” spoke Hauviette with timid persistency. “What do you think, Jeanne?”
“They come no more,” replied the little maid gravely. “Godmother Beatrix and the Curé both say that they do not. 19 They came in the olden time, but for their sins they come no longer.”
“Perchance they hold their meetings further back in the wood,” suggested another girl. “That may be the reason that they are not seen.”
“I shall see,” cried one of the boys rising, and starting toward the forest that extended its dark reaches behind them. “If there be fairies there, I, Colin, shall find them.”
“Do not go, Colin,” exclaimed Jeanne in alarm. “You know that there is danger both from wolves and wild boars.”
Few dared enter the wood, so thick it was, and the wolves it harbored were the terror of the countryside. So greatly were they feared, and such was the desire to be rid of the menace, that there was a reward given by the mayors of the villages for every head of a wolf, or a wolf cub, brought to them. So now a protesting chorus arose from the children as Colin, with a scornful “Pouf!” threw his shoulders back, and swaggered into the wood.
“’Tis time for the ‘Well dressing,’” declared Jean, another one of Jeanne’s brothers. “Let Colin look for the fairies if he will. Let us go to the Spring. ’Tis what we came for.”
“And so say I,” chimed in another boy.
“And I. And I,” came from others. As this seemed to be the desire of all there was an immediate stir and bustle. The remnants of the lunch were hastily gathered up, and put in baskets; some of the wreaths were taken from the tree, and then the line of march was formed. Just as they were ready to start, however, there came a shrill shout from the forest: