“Why,” replied the old rascal, “good broth, for I will give you a measure of corn in season.”

“Then,” replied the old hag, “where shall I put it?”

“In your dish,” answered the purchaser of innocence.

“But I have neither dish nor flower-bin, nor anything.”

“Well I will give you dishes and flower-bins, saucepans, flagons, a good bed with curtains, and everything.”

“Yes,” replied the good widow, “but the rain would spoil them, I have no house.”

“You can see from here,” replied the lord, “the house of La Tourbelliere, where lived my poor huntsmen Pillegrain, who was ripped up by a boar?”

“Yes,” said the old woman.

“Well, you can make yourself at home there for the rest of your days.”

“By my faith;” cried the mother, letting fall her distaff, “do you mean what you say?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, what will you give my daughter?”

“All that she is willing to gain in my service.”

“Oh! my lord, you are a joking.”

“No,” said he.

“Yes,” said she.

“By St. Gatien, St. Eleuther, and by the thousand million saints who are in heaven, I swear that—­”

“Ah!  Well; if you are not jesting I should like those fagots to pass through the hands of the notary.”

“By the blood of Christ and the charms of your daughter am I not a gentleman?  Is not my word good enough?”

“Ah! well I don’t say that it is not; but as true as I am a poor spinner I love my child too much to leave her; she is too young and weak at present, she will break down in service.  Yesterday, in his sermon, the vicar said that we should have to answer to God for our children.”

“There!  There!” said the lord, “go and find the notary.”

An old woodcutter ran to the scrivener, who came and drew up a contract, to which the lord of Valennes then put his cross, not knowing how to write, and when all was signed and sealed—­

“Well, old lady,” said he, “now you are no longer answerable to God for the virtue of your child.”

“Ah! my lord, the vicar said until the age of reason, and my child is quite reasonable.”  Then turning towards her, she added, “Marie Fiquet, that which is dearest to you is your honour, and there where you are going everyone, without counting my lord, will try to rob you of it, but you see well what it is worth; for that reason do not lose it save willingly and in proper manner.  Now in order not to contaminate your virtue before God and before man, except for a legitimate motive, take heed that your chance of marriage be not damaged beforehand, otherwise you will go to the bad.”

“Yes, dear mother,” replied the maid.

And thereupon she left the poor abode of her relation, and came to the chateau of Valennes, there to serve my lady, who found her both pretty and to her taste.