and went up the mountain to sell a horse. That's the truth. He fed
the beast with a good peck of oats soaked in cider to give him a firm
leg and a brilliant eye; he took him to market near the mountain. He had
no cause to regret his oats or his cider, for he sold his horse for
a much better price. Beasts are like human beings; one judges them by
their appearance. My deceased husband was so rejoiced at his good stroke
of business that he invited his friends to drink with him, and glass in
hand he drank to their health.

"You must know, your lordship, that there wasn't a man in all Clarides
could equal my husband when glass in hand he drank to the health of
his friends. So much so that on that day, after a number of such
compliments, when he returned alone at twilight he took the wrong
road for the reason that he could not recognise the right one. Finding
himself near a cavern he saw as distinctly as possible, considering his
condition and the hour, a crowd of little men carrying a girl or a boy
on a litter. He ran away for fear of ill-luck; for the wine had not
robbed him of prudence. But at some distance from the cavern he dropped
his pipe, and on stooping to pick it up he picked up instead a little
satin shoe. When he was in a good humour he used to amuse himself by
saying, 'It's the first time a pipe has changed into a shoe.' And as it
was the shoe of a little girl he decided that she who had lost it in the
forest was the one who had been carried away by the dwarfs and that it
was this he had seen. He was about to put the shoe into his pocket when
a crowd of little men in hoods pounced down on him and gave him such a
thrashing that he lay there quite stunned."

"Maurille! Maurille!" cried George, "it's Honey-Bee's shoe. Give it to
me and I will kiss it a thousand times. It shall rest for ever on my
heart, and when I die it shall be buried with me."

"As you please, your lordship; but where will you find it? The dwarfs
took it away from my poor husband and he always thought that they only
gave him such a sound thrashing because he wanted to put it in his
pocket to show to the magistrates. He used to say when he was in a good
humour----"

"Enough--enough! Only tell me the name of the cavern!"

"It is called the cavern of the dwarfs, your lordship, and very well
named too. My deceased husband----"

"Not another word, Maurille! But you. Francoeur, do you know where this
cavern is?"

"Your lordship," replied Franco