In our forest of Lions, going towards the hamlet of La
Goupillière, very close to a great well-spring belonging
to the chapel of Saint Mathurin, there was a man, a wood
cutter by trade, called Brisquet, or the good man with an
axe, who lived frugally from the sale of his firewood with
his wife, who was called Brisquette.
God had given them two fine young children, a boy of seven
who was dark and called Biscotin and a blonde girl of six
who was called Biscotine.
In addition to this they had a mongrel dog with curly hair,
black all over its body with the exception of its nose, which
was fire-red, and it was the best dog in those parts because
of its devotion to its owners.
They called it Bichonne because it might have been a bitch.
Do you remember the time when all those wolves came to the
forest of Lions? That was the year when it snowed a lot, when
poor people had such a struggle just to stay alive. The region
was totally desolate.
Brisquet, who always went to work, and who did not fear the
wolves owing to his sharp axe, said one morning to Brisquette:
"Woman, do not let either Biscotin or Biscotine go out until
the Wolffinder General has been. It's too dangerous for them
out there. It's enough if they can walk from the mound to the
pond now that I've put up a fence around the pond to stop them
falling in. I'd also like to ask you, Brisquette, not to let
the dog out. All she wants to do is go for walks."
Brisquet said the same thing to Brisquette every morning. One
evening he did not arrive home at his usual time. Brisquette
came to the threshold, went back in, came back out and said as
she clasped her hands together: "My God, how late he is!"