as Bru, the
shepherd.

He lived in the fields in his movable hut, on cakes made of unleavened
dough, which he kneaded on a stone and baked in the hot ashes, now here,
now there, is a hole dug out in the ground, and heated with dead wood.
Potatoes, milk, hard cheese, blackberries, and a small cask of old gin
that he had distilled himself, were his daily pittance; but he knew
nothing about love, although he was accused of all sorts of horrible
things, and therefore nobody dared abuse him to his face; in the first
place, because Bru was a spare and sinewy man, who handled his shepherd's
crook like a drum-major does his staff; next, because of his three sheep
dogs, who had teeth like wolves, and who knew nobody except their master;
and lastly, for fear of the evil eye. For Bru, it appeared, knew spells
which would blight the corn, give the sheep foot rot, the cattle the
_rinder pest_, make cows die in calving, and set fire to the ricks and
stacks.

But as Bru was the only one who did not loll out his tongue after La
Morillonne, naturally one day she began to think of him, and she declared
that she, at any rate, was not afraid of his evil eye, and so she went
after him.

"What do you want?" he said, and she replied boldly:

"What do I want? I want you."

"Very well," he said, "but then you must belong to me alone."

"All right," was her answer, "if you think you can please me."

He smiled and took her into his arms, and she was away from the village
for a whole week. She had, in fact, become entirely Bru's exclusive
property.

The village grew excited. They were not jealous of each other, but they
were of him. What! Could she not resist him. Of course he had charms and
spells against every imaginable thing. And they grew furious. Next they
grew bold, and watched from behind a tree. She was still as lively as
ever, but he, poor fellow, seemed to have become suddenly ill, and
required the most tender nursing at her hands. The villagers, however,
felt no compassion for the poor shepherd, and so, one of them, more
courageous than the rest, advanced towards the hut with his gun in his
hand:

"Tie up your dogs," he cried out from a distance; "fasten them up, Bru,
or I shall shoot them."

"You need not be frightened of the dogs," _La Morillonne_ replied; "I
will be answerable for it that they will not hurt you;" and she smiled as
the young man with the gun went towards her.

"What do you want?" the shepherd said.