The Brownie of the Lake

THE BROWNIE OF THE LAKE

ONCE upon a time there lived in France a man whose name was Jalm Riou.

You might have walked a whole day without meeting any one happier or

more contented, for he had a large farm, plenty of money, and, above

all, a daughter called Barbaïk, 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 Barbaïk what they might whisper

behind her back as long as she knew that her clothes were finer than any

one else's and that she had more partners than any other girl.

Now amongst all the young men who wanted to marry Barbaïk, 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.

Jégu, 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 Barbaïk 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

Barbaïk, when a voice came out of the gorse close by.

'What is the matter, Jégu? 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 Jégu.

'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 Jégu.

'Certainly, if you wish,' and the frog jumped on the back of one of the

horses, and changed into a little dwarf, all dressed green.

This transformation rather frightened Jégu, but the brownie bade him

have no fears, for he would not do him any harm; indeed, he hoped that

Jégu 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[3] 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.'

[Footnote 3: The spiteful fairies.]

'How?' exclaimed Jégu, 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 Jégu, '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 Barbaïk, 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 Barbaïk.'

'But how are you going to do it?' exclaimed Jégu wonderingly.

'That is my affair. Perhaps I may tell you later. Meanwhile you just eat

and sleep, and don't worry yourself about anything.'

Jégu 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 Barbaïk 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, Jégu 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, Jégu 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 Barbaïk 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 Jégu,

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, Barbaïk 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 Jégu, 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 Barbaïk 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. Jégu would always be there to work for her, and

save for her, and watch over her. So, like a well-brought-up girl,

Barbaïk 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 Jégu 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 Barbaïk 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 Jégu 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 Jégu, but that now he had other business to do, and it was high

time that she looked after her house herself.

Barbaïk 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 Jégu 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 presents 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 Barbaïk 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, Barbaïk 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

fête, so one day the brownie asked Jégu if he might bring his friends to

have supper in the great barn, and whether he would allow them to dance

there. Of course, Jégu was only too pleased to be able to do anything

for the brownie, and he ordered Barbaïk 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 Barbaïk 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, Barbe 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 Jégu, without their

help, grew poorer and poorer, and at last died of misery, while Barbaïk

was glad to find work in the market of Morlaix.

From 'Le Foyer Breton,' par E. Souvestre