Once upon a time there lived in France a man whose name was Jalm Riou.
You might have walked a whole day without meeting anyone happier or more
contented, for he had a large farm, plenty of money, and above all, a
daughter called Barbaik, the most graceful dancer and the best-dressed
girl in the whole country side. When she appeared on holidays in her
embroidered cap, five petticoats, each one a little shorter than the
other, and shoes with silver buckles, the women were all filled with
envy, but little cared Barbaik what they might whisper behind her back
as long as she knew that her clothes were finer than anyone else’s and
that she had more partners than any other girl.
Now amongst all the young men who wanted to marry Barbaik, the one whose
heart was most set on her was her father’s head man, but as his manners
were rough and he was exceedingly ugly she would have nothing to say to
him, and, what was worse, often made fun of him with the rest.
Jegu, for that was his name, of course heard of this, and it made him
very unhappy. Still he would not leave the farm, and look for work
elsewhere, as he might have done, for then he would never see Barbaik at
all, and what was life worth to him without that?
One evening he was bringing back his horses from the fields, and stopped
at a little lake on the way home to let them drink. He was tired with
a long day’s work, and stood with his hand on the mane of one of the
animals, waiting till they had done, and thinking all the while of
Barbaik, when a voice came out of the gorse close by.
‘What is the matter, Jegu? You mustn’t despair yet.’
The young man glanced up in surprise, and asked who was there.
‘It is I, the brownie of the lake,’ replied the voice.
‘But where are you?’ inquired Jegu.
‘Look close, and you will see me among the reeds in the form of a little
green frog. I can take,’ he added proudly, ‘any shape I choose, and
even, which is much harder, be invisible if I want to.’
‘Then show yourself to me in the shape in which your family generally
appear,’ replied Jegu.
‘Certainly, if you wish,’ and the frog jumped on the back of one of the
horses, and changed into a little dwarf, all dressed in green.
This transformation rather frightened Jegu, but the brownie bade him
have no fears, for he would not do him any harm; indeed, he hoped that
Jegu might find him of some use.
‘But why should you take all this interest in me?’ asked the peasant
suspiciously.
‘Because of a service you did me last winter, which I have never
forgotten,’ answered the little fellow. ‘You know, I am sure, that
the korigans[FN#3: The spiteful fairies.] who dwell in the White Corn
country have declared war on my people, because they say that they are
the friends of man. We were therefore obliged to take refuge in distant
lands, and to hide ourselves at first under different animal shapes.
Since that time, partly from habit and partly to amuse ourselves, we
have continued to transform ourselves, and it was in this way that I got
to know you.’
‘How?’ exclaimed Jegu, filled with astonishment.
‘Do you remember when you were digging in the field near the river,
three months ago, you found a robin redbreast caught in a net?
‘Yes,’ answered Jegu, ‘I remember it very well, and I opened the net and
let him go.’
‘Well, I was that robin redbreast, and ever since I have vowed to be
your friend, and as you want to marry Barbaik, I will prove the truth of
what I say by helping you to do so.’
‘Ah! my little brownie, if you can do that, there is nothing I won’t
give you, except my soul.’
‘Then let me alone,’ rejoined the dwarf, ‘and I promise you that in a
very few months you shall be master of the farm and of Barbaik.’
‘But how are you going to do it?’ exclaimed Jegu wonderingly.
‘That is my affair. Perhaps I may tell you later. Meanwhile you just eat
and sleep, and don’t worry yourself about anything.’
Jegu declared that nothing could be easier, and then taking off his hat,
he thanked the dwarf heartily, and led his horses back to the farm.
Next morning was a holiday, and Barbaik was awake earlier than usual, as
she wished to get through her work as soon as possible, and be ready to
start for a dance which was to be held some distance off. She went
first to the cow-house, which it was her duty to keep clean, but to her
amazement she found fresh straw put down, the racks filled with hay, the
cows milked, and the pails standing neatly in a row.
‘Of course, Jegu must have done this in the hope of my giving him a
dance,’ she thought to herself, and when she met him outside the door
she stopped and thanked him for his help. To be sure, Jegu only replied
roughly that he didn’t know what she was talking about, but this answer
made her feel all the more certain that it was he and nobody else.
The same thing took place every day, and never had the cow-house been so
clean nor the cows so fat. Morning and evening Barbaik found her earthen
pots full of milk and a pound of butter freshly churned, ornamented
with leaves. At the end of a few weeks she grew so used to this state of
affairs that she only got up just in time to prepare breakfast.
Soon even this grew to be unnecessary, for a day arrived when, coming
downstairs, she discovered that the house was swept, the furniture
polished, the fire lit, and the food ready, so that she had nothing to
do except to ring the great bell which summoned the labourers from the
fields to come and eat it. This, also, she thought was the work of Jegu,
and she could not help feeling that a husband of this sort would be very
useful to a girl who liked to lie in bed and to amuse herself.
Indeed, Barbaik had only to express a wish for it to be satisfied. If
the wind was cold or the sun was hot and she was afraid to go out lest
her complexion should be spoilt, she need only to run down to the spring
close by and say softly, ‘I should like my churns to be full, and my
wet linen to be stretched on the hedge to dry,’ and she need never give
another thought to the matter.
If she found the rye bread too hard to bake, or the oven taking too long
to heat, she just murmured, ‘I should like to see my six loaves on the
shelf above the bread box,’ and two hours after there they were.
If she was too lazy to walk all the way to market along a dirty road,
she would say out loud the night before, ‘Why am I not already back from
Morlaix with my milk pot empty, my butter bowl inside it, a pound of
wild cherries on my wooden plate, and the money I have gained in my
apron pocket?’ and in the morning when she got up, lo and behold! there
were standing at the foot of her bed the empty milk pot with the butter
bowl inside, the black cherries on the wooden plate, and six new pieces
of silver in the pocket of her apron. And she believed that all this
was owing to Jegu, and she could no longer do without him, even in her
thoughts.
When things had reached this pass, the brownie told the young man that
he had better ask Barbaik to marry him, and this time the girl did not
turn rudely away, but listened patiently to the end. In her eyes he was
as ugly and awkward as ever, but he would certainly make a most useful
husband, and she could sleep every morning till breakfast time, just
like a young lady, and as for the rest of the day, it would not be
half long enough for all she meant to do. She would wear the beautiful
dresses that came when she wished for them, and visit her neighbours,
who would be dying of envy all the while, and she would be able to dance
as much as she wished. Jegu would always be there to work for her and
save for her, and watch over her. So, like a well-brought-up girl,
Barbaik answered that it should be as her father pleased, knowing quite
well that old Riou had often said that after he was dead there was no
one so capable of carrying on the farm.
The marriage took place the following month, and a few days later the
old man died quite suddenly. Now Jegu had everything to see to himself,
and somehow it did not seem so easy as when the farmer was alive. But
once more the brownie stepped in, and was better than ten labourers.
It was he who ploughed and sowed and reaped, and if, as happened,
occasionally, it was needful to get the work done quickly, the brownie
called in some of his friends, and as soon as it was light a host of
little dwarfs might have been seen in the fields, busy with hoe, fork or
sickle. But by the time the people were about all was finished, and the
little fellows had disappeared.
And all the payment the brownie ever asked for was a bowl of broth. From
the very day of her marriage Barbaik had noted with surprise and rage
that things ceased to be done for her as they had been done all the
weeks and months before. She complained to Jegu of his laziness, and he
only stared at her, not understanding what she was talking about. But
the brownie, who was standing by, burst out laughing, and confessed that
all the good offices she spoke of had been performed by him, for the
sake of Jegu, but that now he had other business to do, and it was high
time that she looked after her house herself.
Barbaik was furious. Each morning when she was obliged to get up before
dawn to milk the cows and go to market, and each evening when she had to
sit up till midnight in order to churn the butter, her heart was filled
with rage against the brownie who had caused her to expect a life of
ease and pleasure. But when she looked at Jegu and beheld his red face,
squinting eyes, and untidy hair, her anger was doubled.
‘If it had not been for you, you miserable dwarf!’ she would say between
her teeth, ‘if it had not been for you I should never have married that
man, and I should still have been going to dances, where the young men
would have brought me present of nuts and cherries, and told me that
I was the prettiest girl in the parish. While now I can receive no
presents except from my husband. I can never dance, except with my
husband. Oh, you wretched dwarf, I will never, never forgive you!’
In spite of her fierce words, no one knew better than Barbaik how to
put her pride in her pocket when it suited her, and after receiving an
invitation to a wedding, she begged the brownie to get her a horse to
ride there. To her great joy he consented, bidding her set out for the
city of the dwarfs and to tell them exactly what she wanted. Full of
excitement, Barbaik started on her journey. It was not long, and when
she reached the town she went straight to the dwarfs, who were holding
counsel in a wide green place, and said to them, ‘Listen, my friends! I
have come to beg you to lend me a black horse, with eyes, a mouth, ears,
bridle and saddle.’
She had hardly spoken when the horse appeared, and mounting on his back
she started for the village where the wedding was to be held.
At first she was so delighted with the chance of a holiday from the work
which she hated, that she noticed nothing, but very soon it struck
her as odd that as she passed along the roads full of people they all
laughed as they looked at her horse. At length she caught some words
uttered by one man to another. ‘Why, the farmer’s wife has sold her
horse’s tail!’ and turned in her saddle. Yes; it was true. Her horse
had no tail! She had forgotten to ask for one, and the wicked dwarfs had
carried out her orders to the letter!
‘Well, at any rate, I shall soon be there,’ she thought, and shaking
the reins, tried to urge the horse to a gallop. But it was of no use; he
declined to move out of a walk; and she was forced to hear all the jokes
that were made upon her.
In the evening she returned to the farm more angry than ever, and
quite determined to revenge herself on the brownie whenever she had the
chance, which happened to be very soon.
It was the spring, and just the time of year when the dwarfs held their
fete, so one day the brownie asked Jegu if he might bring his friends to
have supper in the great barn, and whether he would allow them to dance
there. Of course, Jegu was only too pleased to be able to do anything
for the brownie, and he ordered Barbaik to spread her best table-cloths
in the barn, and to make a quantity of little loaves and pancakes,
and, besides, to keep all the milk given by the cows that morning. He
expected she would refuse, as he knew she hated the dwarfs, but she said
nothing, and prepared the supper as he had bidden her.
When all was ready, the dwarfs, in new green suits, came bustling in,
very happy and merry, and took their seats at the table. But in a moment
they all sprang up with a cry, and ran away screaming, for Barbaik had
placed pans of hot coals under their feet, and all their poor little
toes were burnt.
‘You won’t forget that in a hurry,’ she said, smiling grimly to herself,
but in a moment they were back again with large pots of water, which
they poured on the fire. Then they joined hands and danced round it,
singing:
Wicked traitress, Barne Riou,
Our poor toes are burned by you;
Now we hurry from your hall--
Bad luck light upon you all.
That evening they left the country for ever, and Jegu, without their
help, grew poorer and poorer, and at last died of misery, while Barbaik
was glad to find work in the market of Morlaix.
From ‘Le Foyer Breton,’ par E. Souvestre.