he Cauldron had affrighted the
night; riotous horns, shaming the blare of a Witches' Sabbath, had been
blown by those who, as old Jean Touzel said, carried little lead under
their noses. The meadows had been full of the childlike islanders
welcoming in the longest day of the year. Mid-summer Day had also come
and gone, but with less noise and clamour, for St. John's Fair had been
carried on with an orderly gaiety--as the same Jean Touzel said, like
a sheet of music. Even the French singers and dancers from St. Malo had
been approved in Norman phrases by the Bailly and the Jurats, for now
there was no longer war between England and France, Napoleon was at St.
Helena, and the Bourbons were come again to their own.

It had been a great day, and the roads were cloudy with the dust of
Mid-summer revellers going to their homes. But though some went many
stayed, camping among the booths, since the Fair was for tomorrow and
for other to-morrows after. And now, the day's sport being over, the
superstitious were making the circle of the rock called William's Horse
in Boulay Bay, singing the song of William, who, with the fabled sprig
of sacred mistletoe, turned into a rock the kelpie horse carrying him to
death.

There was one boat, however, which putting out into the Bay did not bear
towards William's Horse, but, catching the easterly breeze, bore away
westward towards the point of Plemont. Upon the stern of the boat was
painted in bright colours, Hardi Biaou. "We'll be there soon after
sunset," said the grizzled helmsman, Jean Touzel, as he glanced from the
full sail to the setting sun.

Neither of his fellow-voyagers made reply, and for a time there was
silence, save for the swish of the gunwale through the water. But at
last Jean said:

"Su' m'n ame, but it is good this, after that!" and he jerked his head
back towards the Fair-ground on the hill. "Even you will sleep to-night,
Dormy Jamais, and you, my wife of all."

Maitresse Aimable shook her great head slowly on the vast shoulders, and
shut her heavy eyelids. "Dame, but I think you are sleeping now--you,"
Jean went on.

Maitresse Aimable's eyes opened wide, and again she shook her head.

Jean looked a laugh at her through his great brass-rimmed spectacles and
added:

"Ba su, then I know. It is because we go to sleep in my hut at Plemont
where She live so long. I know, you never sleep there."

Maitresse Aimable shook her head once more, and drew from her pocket