Part 22

'"And have you wings?"

'"By my faith, no."

'"How, then, do you fly so fast?"

'Said Orthon, "That does not concern you."

'"No," he replied; "but I would gladly see of what form you are."

'Said Orthon, "My form does not concern you. Content you with what I tell you and that my news is true."

'"Now, as I live," cried the Sieur de Corasse, "I should love you better if I had but seen you."

'Said Orthon, "Since you have such burning desire to see me, the first thing you behold to-morrow morning on getting out of bed will be I."

'"It is enough," answered the Sieur de Corasse. "Go. I take leave of you for this night."

'When the day dawned, the Sieur de Corasse arose from his bed, but his wife was filled with such dread of meeting Orthon that she feigned to be ill, and protested she would lie abed all day; for she said, "Suppose I were to see him?"

'"Now," cried the Sieur de Corasse, "see what I do," and he jumped from his bed and sat upon the edge, and looked about for Orthon; but he saw nothing. Then he threw back the windows so that he could note more clearly all that was in the room, but again he saw nought of which he could say, "That is Orthon."

'The day passed and night came. Hardly had the Sieur de Corasse climbed up into his bed than Orthon arrived, and began to talk to him, as his custom was.

'"Go to, go to," said the Sieur de Corasse; "you are but a bungler. You promised to show yourself to me yesterday, and you never appeared."

'"Never appeared," said he. "But I did, by my faith."

'"You did not."

'"And did you see nothing," said Orthon, "when you leapt from your bed?"

'The Sieur de Corasse thought for a little; then he answered. "Yes," he replied; "as I was sitting on my bed and thinking of you, I noticed two long straws on the floor twisting about and playing together."

'"That was I," said Orthon. "That was the form I had taken upon me."

'Said the Sieur de Corasse: "That is not enough. You must take another form, so that I may see you and know you."

'"You ask so much that I shall become weary of you and you will lose me," replied Orthon.

'"You will never become weary of me and I shall never lose you," answered the Sieur de Corasse; "if only I see you once, I shall be content."

'"So be it," said Orthon; "to-morrow you shall see me, and take notice that the first thing you see as you leave your room will be I."

'"It is enough," spoke the Sieur de Corasse; "and now go, for I fain would sleep."

'So Orthon went; and when it was the third hour next morning the Sieur de Corasse rose and dressed as was his custom, and, leaving his chamber, came out into a gallery that looked into the central court of the castle. He glanced down, and the first thing he saw was a sow, larger than any he had ever beheld, but so thin that it seemed nothing but skin and bone. The Sieur de Corasse was troubled at the sight of the pig, and said to his servants: "Set on the dogs, and let them chase out that sow."

'The varlets departed and loosened the dogs, and urged them to attack the sow, which uttered a great cry and looked at the Sieur de Corasse, who stood leaning against one of the posts of his chamber. They saw her no more, for she vanished, and no man could tell whither she had gone.

'Then the Sieur de Corasse entered into his room, pondering deeply, for he remembered the words of Orthon and said to himself: "I fear me that I have seen my messenger. I repent me that I have set my dogs upon him, and the more that perhaps he will never visit me again, for he has told me, not once but many times, that if I angered him he would depart from me."

'And in this he said well; for Orthon came no more to the castle of Corasse, and in less than a year its lord himself was dead.'

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