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Updated: June 13, 2025
Josserande heard it, for she paused in her descent and cast an anxious look around; but, seeing no one, she raised her eyes to heaven and clasped her hands over the handle of her axe. The wolf, in the meantime, with fuming nostrils and eyes which looked like burning coals, leaped over the stones of the enclosure and began to run around the circle. "See, see!" said Pol Bihan; "he no longer limps."
So here is my penitent Josserande, who will rightfully judge the wolf and punish him; she is his mother." When Gildas the Wise ceased speaking, you could have heard a mouse run across the heath. Each one thought to himself: "So the wolf is really Sylvestre Ker." But not a word was uttered, and all looked at Dame Josserande's axe, which glistened in the moonlight.
And this has lasted for thirteen hundred years; therefore you may well think there is a story connected with it. When Martin Ker, the husband of Dame Josserande, died, their son Sylvestre was only seven years old.
She also was alone; for Matheline and Pol Bihan, seized with terror, had rushed across the fields at the first alarm and abandoned their precious charge. The grand abbot called Josserande and said, "Woman, do not despair. Above you is the Infinite Goodness, who holds in His hands the heavens and the whole earth.
Josserande raised her axe, but she had the misfortune to look at the wolf, who fixed his eyes, full of tears, upon her, and the axe fell from her hands. It was the wolf who picked it up, and when he gave it back to her, he said, "I weep for you, my mother." "Strike!" cried the crowd; for what remained of Pol and Matheline uttered terrible groans. "Strike! strike!"
At these words Josserande fell her full length upon the tiles, as if she had been stabbed to the heart; but in the very depth of her agony for she thought herself dying she replied, "If you should order me to do it, I would." "You have this great confidence in me, poor woman?" cried Gildas, much moved. "You are a man of God," answered Josserande, "and I have faith in God."
Meanwhile, protect your wolf; we must return to the monastery to gain from sleep strength to serve the Lord our God!" And he resumed his course, followed by his escort. The wolf did not move; his tongue lay on the snow, which was reddened by his blood. Josserande knelt beside him and prayed fervently. For whom? For her beloved son. Did she already know that the wolf was Sylvestre Ker?
Even behind the hedge which enclosed the abbey orchard Matheline and Pol were hidden to see her pass; and she heard Pol say, "Will you come to-night to see the wolf run around?" "Without fail," replied Matheline; and the sting of her laughter pierced Josserande like a poisonous thorn. The grand abbot received her, surrounded by great books and dusty manuscripts.
Dame Josserande repeated the words with the others, but the refrain of her heart continued: "O Jesus, Infinite Goodness! may he be happy. Deliver him from all evil, from all sin. I have only him to love.... Holy, holy, holy, give me all the suffering and keep for him all the happiness!" Can you believe it?
Gildas the Wise prostrated himself on the ground and struck his breast, knowing that he had felt a movement of pride. Then, standing up, he raised Josserande, and kissed the hem of her robe, saying, "Woman, I adore you in the most holy faith. Prepare your axe, and sharpen it!"
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