A Witch’s Foresight.
It is generally believed that those who practise unlawful acts, however clever they may be, are generally quite unable to foresee what is likely to happen to themselves. That this is not invariably the case the following story will show.
A woman, who had the reputation of being a sorceress, contrived to live in comparative ease and comfort by begging from door to door, few venturing to send her away without an alms for fear of incurring her displeasure, and bringing down some misfortune on themselves or their households. She presented herself one morning at the house of a farmer in easy circumstances, whose wife was one not likely to be imposed upon, and not by any means remarkable for liberality towards the poor. The witch’s well-contrived tale of distress failed to make an impression on the hard heart of the farmer’s wife, and the beggar was dismissed without even a kind word: indeed, it is even said that the odious epithet “Caïmande”[197] was applied to her. On turning her back on the inhospitable door, she was heard to mutter between her teeth, “You shall repent of this.”
Old Market Place and States Arcade.
It was a fine morning in spring, and a hen that had hatched an early brood of chickens, had brought them out into the sun, and was clucking over her callow brood, and scratching the earth in search of seeds and insects for them. The farmer’s wife was looking on with complacency, and already calculating in her mind what the brood was likely to fetch in the market. The proverb tells us that we must not reckon our chickens before they are hatched. It seems that it is not wise to reckon on them even after they are hatched. And this the farmer’s wife found to her cost; for, scarcely was the witch out of the farm-yard, before one of the chickens fell on its side, gave a kick or two, and died. Its example was soon followed by all its brothers and sisters, and, last of all, the bereaved mother also departed this life. The farmer’s wife was at no loss to whose evil agency to impute this untoward event, and hastened at once to consult an old neighbour, a wise woman, who had the reputation of knowing how these unholy spells were to be counteracted, and what means were to be adopted to prevent the sorceress from doing any further mischief. She was advised to lose no time in returning home; to extract carefully the hearts of all the chickens, as well as that of the hen; to stick new pins or nails into them, and to roast or fry them over a brisk fire, when, she was assured, that not only would the witch be made to suffer unheard of agonies, but that all power would be taken from her to do any further mischief.
The farmer’s wife hastened home to follow the instructions given her by the wise woman, but found, to her dismay, that the sorceress had profited by her short absence from home to re-visit the farmyard and that she had carefully removed every heart from the carcases.[198]
[197] Métivier derives this word—meaning “beggar”—from the old French word “guermenter” to complain. The old Bas-Breton word was “c’harm”—to utter cries.
[198] From Charlotte Du Port.