Pol brandished his club and continued:
“What are we waiting for? Why not attack him?”
“Go you first,” said the men.
“I caught cold the other day, and my leg is stiff, which keeps me from running,” answered Pol.
“Then I will go first!” cried Matheline, raising her pitch-fork. “I will soon show how I hate the wretch!”
Dame Josserande heard her and sighed:
“Girl, whom I blessed in baptism, may God keep me from cursing you now!”
This Matheline, whose pearls were worth nothing, was no coward; for she carried out her words, and marched straight up to the wolf, while Bihan stayed behind and cried:
“Go, go, my friends; don’t be afraid! Ah! but for my stiff leg I would soon finish the wolf, for I am the strongest and bravest.”
Round and round the circle galloped the wolf as quickly as a hunted stag; his eyes darted fire, his tongue was hanging from his mouth. Josserande, seeing the danger that threatened him, wept and cried out: