can lead you by a leash to hunt in the
woods...."

"I wish," cried Sylvestre Ker, whose anger burst forth at these words,
"I wish to be a wolf, to devour them both!"

"So be it," said Satan; "wolf you shall be three hours of the night
during your mortal life.... Leap, wolf!"

And the wolf, Sylvestre Ker, leaped, and with one dash shattered the
casement of the window as he cleared it with a bound. Through the
aperture in the roof Satan escaped, and, spreading a pair of immense
wings, rapidly disappeared in an opposite direction from the steeple of
Plouharnel, whose chimes were ringing across the snow.

IX.

I do not know if you have ever seen a Breton village come forth after
the midnight Mass. It is a joyous sight, but a brief one, as all are in
a hurry to return home, where the midnight meal awaits them,--a frugal
feast, but eaten with such cheerful hearts. The people, for a moment
massed in the cemetery, exchange hospitable invitations, kind wishes,
and friendly jokes; then divide into little caravans, which hurry along
the roads, laughing, talking, singing. If it is a clear, cold night, the
clicking of their wooden shoes may be heard for some time; but if it is
damp weather, the sound is stifled, and after a few moments the faint
echo of an "adieu" or Christmas greeting is all that can be heard around
the church as the beadle closes it.

In the midst of all this cheerfulness Josserande alone returned with a
sad heart; for through the whole Mass she had in vain watched for her
beloved son. She walked fifty paces behind the cavalcade of the monks of
Ruiz, and dared not approach the Grand Abbot Gildas, for fear of being
questioned about her boy. On her right was Matheline du Coat-Dor, on her
left Bihan,--both eager to console her; for they thought that by that
time Sylvestre Ker must have learned the wonderful secret which would
secure him untold wealth, and to possess the son they should cling to
the mother; therefore there were promises and caresses, and "will you
have this, or will you have that?"

"Dear godmother, I shall always be with you," said Matheline, "to
comfort and rejoice your old age; for your son is my heart."

Pol Bihan continued,--

"I will never marry, but always remain with my friend, Sylvestre Ker,
whom I love more than myself. And nothing must worry you; if he is weak,
I am strong, and I will work for two."

To pretend that Dame Josserande paid much attention to all these words
woul