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 , all dressed in green.
This 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 .
‘Do you remember when you were digging in the field near the river, three months ago, you found a 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 to be your friend, and as you want to marry Barbaik, I will prove the truth of what I say by 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 , 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 she found fresh straw put down, the racks filled with hay, the cows milked, and the pails 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, 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 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 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
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