The young man sighed.
"You once taught me many prayers, grandmother."
"Do not forget them. We pray for you every day."
"Yes indeed," said the younger sister. "Grandmother reads from the prayer-book, and then we repeat a long prayer, in which we name all the good things we entreat God to grant you and all the evil ones from which we beseech him to guard you: storms, sickness, shipwreck, hunger, thirst, sharks, savages, and above all, Robert Barthelemy."
The young man gazed at her with a smile. "And why from Robert Barthelemy?" he asked.
"Because he is a wicked pirate, whom no one can resist, who is in league with the devil, and who either burns all whom he captures over a slow fire or else casts them into the sea."
"That is not true, Barthelemy never tortures any one."
"Oh, we remember him, too, in our daily prayer."
"Do you?"
"Yes indeed. Every day, crossing ourselves three times, we entreat God to sink to the bottom of the sea the horrible monster, whom we hold in such fear for your sake."