wrong in calling myself
a servant, for I am only a bird-catcher. But do not delay me, I pray,
for his highness the magician expects me, and, as you see, has lent me
his colt so that I may reach the castle all the quicker.'

At these words the korigan cast his eyes for the first time on the colt,
which he knew to be the one belonging to the magician, and began to
think that the young man was speaking the truth. After examining the
horse, he studied the rider, who had such an innocent, and indeed
vacant, air that he appeared incapable of inventing a story. Still, the
dwarf did not feel _quite_ sure that all was right, and asked what the
magician wanted with a bird-catcher.

'From what he says, he wants one very badly,' replied Peronnik, 'as he
declares that all his grain and all the fruit in his garden at Kerglas
are eaten up by the birds.'

'And how are you going to stop that, my fine fellow?' inquired the
korigan; and Peronnik showed him the snare he had prepared, and remarked
that no bird could possibly escape from it.

'That is just what I should like to be sure of,' answered the korigan.
'My apples are completely eaten up by blackbirds and thrushes. Lay your
snare, and if you can manage to catch them, I will let you pass.'

'That is a fair bargain,' and as he spoke Peronnik jumped down and
fastened his colt to a tree; then, stooping, he fixed one end of the net
to the trunk of the apple-tree, and called to the korigan to hold the
other while he took out the pegs. The dwarf did as he was bid, when
suddenly Peronnik threw the noose over his neck and drew it close, and
the korigan was held as fast as any of the birds he wished to snare.

Shrieking with rage, he tried to undo the cord, but he only pulled the
knot tighter. He had put down the sword on the grass, and Peronnik had
been careful to fix the net on the other side of the tree, so that it
was now easy for him to pluck an apple and to mount his horse, without
being hindered by the dwarf, whom he left to his fate.

* * * * *

When they had left the plain behind them, Peronnik and his steed found
themselves in a narrow valley in which was a grove of trees, full of all
sorts of sweet-smelling things--roses of every colour, yellow broom,
pink honeysuckle--while above them all towered a wonderful scarlet pansy
whose face bore a strange expression. This was the flower that laughs,
and no one who looked at it could help laughing to