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"Come, supper is ready to table," said old Araim; and addressing his son's wife, who continued to give signs of preoccupation, he said to her in a low voice: "What is the matter, Madalen? Are you still thinking of the Korrigans?" "This stranger who disguises himself in the robe of a priest without being one will bring misfortune over our house.
It is only four o'clock in the afternoon, and yet it is night to all intents and purposes; the warmly stalled cattle are locked in; the gates of the farmyard are closed tightly out of fear of prowling wolves; a large fire shoots up its flames in the fireplace of the hall; old Araim is seated in his armchair, at the chimney-corner, with his large grey dog, its head streaked with the white of old age, stretched out at his feet.
"Come, dear wife, your fears only show weakness." "Mothers are weak and timid, Jocelyn. We must not tempt God " Old Araim stops working for a moment at his net; his head drops on his chest. "What is the matter, folks? You seem to be in a brown study! Do you fear, like Madalen, that danger may threaten Karadeucq just because, on such a tempestuous night as this, he wishes to see a Korrigan?"
Yes, the descendants of the good Joel are, occasionally, long-lived, seeing that I, Araim, who to-day trace these lines in the seventy-seventh year of my life, saw my grandfather Gildas die fifty-six years ago at the advanced age of ninety-six, after having inscribed in his early youth a few lines in our family archives. My grandfather Gildas buried his son Goridek, my father.
And what can be the reason that my grandfather Goridek wrote not a line? And, finally, what can be the reason that my own father, Araim, waited so long so very long before fulfilling the wishes of the good Joel?" To that, my son, I would make this answer: Your great-grandfather had no particular liking for desks and parchments.
These are the reasons why old Araim believed that neither as a father nor a Breton did his obscure happiness deserve to be chronicled in our family records, and these are the reasons why, alas! he had too much to write as a Gaul.
Old Araim died long ago, never ceasing to sorrow over the loss of Karadeucq, his pet. Jocelyn and Madalen, Karadeucq's father and mother also are dead. His elder brother Kervan and his sweet sister Roselyk still live and inhabit the same homestead situated near the sacred stones of Karnak. Kervan is over sixty years of age; he married late; his son, now fifteen years of age, is called Yvon.
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