“Ten, then,” replied the witch with a loud laugh, “but I promise you they shall slip through your grasp as quickly as the ten pearls that lie side by side on a rosary.”
On the morning of the day when the fisherman had to make his decision, it happened that Yolande rose very early and went into the woods to gather cowslips. Her father had lain awake all night, turning the whole matter over and over in his mind as he had done for months past. The winter gales had injured his boat, he was poorer than ever, and the farmer was growing impatient. Yolande was the fairest girl in the countryside, said he, but even she was not worth waiting for more than a year.
Yolande herself had slept serenely, and as she went with her basket deeper and deeper into the woods, she was glad with the gladness of the April morning, for her thoughts were with the poor goatherd, and she sang of love. In the heart of the forest lay a wide clearing called the golden meadow, for every spring it was golden with cowslips, which grew here in greater sweetness and profusion than in any other field. Yolande picked and picked till her basket was full, and then sat down to refresh herself with the bread and cheese and the flask of milk she had brought with her.
She had no sooner begun eating than a little field mouse popped up out of its hole, and watched her with bright fearless eyes. “You dear little tame thing,” said she, “you shall have some of my bread, because you are so venturesome for your size.” The mouse took a few crumbs of the bread which she scattered for it, and disappeared down its hole.
Not long after, a robin hopped up to where she was sitting, and preened its red breast with its beak. “You shall have your share too,” said Yolande, “because you were moved with pity on Good Friday, and tried to pluck away the nails, so that your little breast is now all stained with red.” And since she had no more bread left, she threw a morsel of cheese towards it. The robin pecked at the cheese, and then flew away, carrying the rest in its beak.
Then Yolande poured out some milk into a pewter mug, and was about to drink, when she noticed a white adder coiled at her feet. She gave a stifled cry and drew back, but the creature did not stir.
“Poor thing,” said Yolande, “I wonder is it thirsty? I will give it some of my milk, because it is so ugly, and people hate it, and never have a good word for it.” The white adder drank the milk, and then coiled itself round Yolande’s arm. At first she was afraid to move, but knowing that she must not be late for the market where she hoped to sell her cowslips, she at last got up and went back into the wood. She had not gone far before she passed a spreading sycamore, beneath which stood a small shrine. Here she placed some of her cowslips, and sprinkled herself with water out of the holy water stoup. A few drops lighted upon the adder, and in an instant it uncoiled itself, slipped to the ground, and turned into a white witch.
“Do not be frightened, Yolande,” said she in a gentle voice, “I am a white witch, and practise only white magic, which is helpful and not hurtful to men. Listen to me; the black witch who dwells on the great rock beyond the harbour tempted your father last midsummer eve to accept at her hands the buried Abbey treasure, so that you might have a rich dowry, and marry the farmer who has asked you to be his wife. To-day your father has to make his decision. But I will give you a better dowry, since you have given me food and drink, and are a good girl, Yolande, worthy of my help. Come back with me a few steps into the wood. Tell me, why do you suppose that this clearing is called the golden meadow?”
“Is it not because of the yellow carpeting of cowslips?” asked the girl.
“No,” replied the witch, “there is another and an older reason.” She made a movement in the air with her hand, and immediately the ground of the meadow became transparent, so that Yolande looked through it as through glass, and saw below it a mighty treasure rich in all manner of jewels and trinkets, gold and silver, jade, ivory and crystal.