The ram, prevented from slaughtering Matheline, dashed after Pol Bihan,
who fled; reached him just at the end of the cliff, and pushed him into
the sea, that beat against the rocks fifty feet below.

Well content with his work, the ram walked off, and the legend says he
laughed behind his woolly beard.

But Matheline wept bitterly, and cried,--

"Ker, my handsome Ker, save Bihan, your sweet friend, from death, and I
pledge my faith I will be your wife without any condition."

At the same time, amid the roaring of the waves, was heard the imploring
voice of Pol Bihan crying,--

"Sylvestre, O Sylvestre Ker! my only friend, I cannot swim. Come
quickly and save me from dying without confession, and all you may ask
of me you shall have, were it the dearest treasure of my heart."

Sylvestre Ker asked,--

"Will you be my groomsman?" And Bihan replied,--

"Yes, yes; and I will give you a hundred crowns. And all that your
mother may ask of me she shall have. But hasten, hasten, dear friend, or
the waves will carry me off."

Sylvestre Ker's blood was pouring from the wound in his eye, and his
sight was dimmed; but he was generous of heart, and boldly leaped from
the top of the promontory. As he fell, his left leg was jammed against a
jutting rock and broke, so there he was, lame as well as one-eyed;
nevertheless, he dragged Bihan to the shore and asked,--

"When shall the wedding be?"

As Matheline hesitated in her answer--for Sylvestre's brave deeds were
too recent to be forgotten--Pol Bihan came to her assistance and gayly
cried,--

"You must wait, Sylvestre, my saviour, until your leg and eye are
healed."

"Still longer," added Matheline (and now Sylvestre Ker saw the two new
pearls, for in her laughter she opened her mouth from ear to ear);
"still longer, as limping, one-eyed men are not to my taste--no, no!"

"But," cried Sylvestre Ker, "it is for your sakes that I am one-eyed and
lame."

"That is true," said Bihan.

"That is true," also repeated Matheline, for she always spoke as he did.

"Ker, my friend Ker," resumed Bihan, "wait until to-morrow, and we will
make you happy."

And off they went, Matheline and he, arm-in-arm, leaving Sylvestre to go
hobbling along to the tower, alone with his sad thoughts.

Would you believe it? Trudging wearily home, he consoled himself by
thinking he had seen two new pearls behind the smile. You may, perhaps,
think you have never met such a fool. Undeceive yourself