The Brownie of the Lake

Once upon a time, in France, there lived a man named Jalm Riou. You could walk all day without meeting anyone happier or more contented, because he had a big farm, plenty of money, and most of all, a daughter called Barbaik.

She was the best dancer and the best-dressed girl in the whole countryside. On holidays, when she wore her embroidered cap, five petticoats each a little shorter than the one before, and shoes with silver buckles, the other women were filled with envy.

But Barbaik didn't care what they whispered behind her back, as long as she knew her clothes were finer than anyone else's and she had more dance partners than any other girl.

Among all the young men who wanted to marry Barbaik, the one who wanted her most was her father's head servant. But his manners were rough and he was very ugly, so she wouldn't have anything to do with him. Even worse, she often made fun of him with the others.

Jegu (that was his name) heard about this, and it made him very unhappy. Still, he wouldn't leave the farm and look for work somewhere else, because then he would never see Barbaik at all. And what was life worth to him without her?

One evening he was bringing his horses back from the fields and stopped at a little lake on the way home to let them drink. He was tired after a long day's work and stood with his hand on one horse's mane, waiting for them to finish. He was thinking about Barbaik when a voice came from the gorse nearby.

"What's the matter, Jegu? Don't give up hope yet."

The young man looked up in surprise and asked who was there.

"It's me, the brownie of the lake," replied the voice.

"But where are you?" asked Jegu.

"Look closely, and you'll see me among the reeds, in the shape of a little green frog. I can take any shape I choose," he added proudly, "and even become invisible if I want to."

"Then show yourself to me in the shape your family usually appears," said Jegu.

"Certainly, if you wish." The frog jumped onto the back of one of the horses and changed into a little dwarf, dressed all in green.

This transformation scared Jegu a little, but the brownie told him not to be afraid, because he wouldn't harm him. In fact, he hoped Jegu would find him useful.

"But why do you care about me?" asked the peasant suspiciously.

"Because of a favor you did me last winter, which I've never forgotten," answered the little fellow. "You know that the korigans—the spiteful fairies—who live in the White Corn country have declared war on my people, because they say we are friends of humans. So we had to take refuge in distant lands and hide at first under different animal shapes. Since then, partly from habit and partly to amuse ourselves, we've kept on transforming ourselves. That's how I got to know you."

"How?" exclaimed Jegu, astonished.

"Do you remember when you were digging in the field near the river three months ago, you found a robin redbreast caught in a net?"

"Yes," answered Jegu. "I remember it very well. I opened the net and let him go."

"Well, I was that robin redbreast. Ever since then I've vowed to be your friend. Since you want to marry Barbaik, I'll prove my friendship by helping you."

"Ah, my little brownie, if you can do that, I'll give you anything except my soul."

"Then leave it to me," replied the dwarf. "I promise that in a few months you'll be master of the farm and of Barbaik."

"But how will you do it?" wondered Jegu.

"That's my business. Maybe I'll tell you later. Meanwhile, you just eat and sleep and don't worry about anything."

Jegu said that would be easy, and then taking off his hat, he thanked the dwarf warmly and led his horses back to the farm.

The next morning was a holiday, and Barbaik was awake earlier than usual because she wanted to finish her work quickly and go to a dance some distance away. First she went to the cow-house, which she was supposed to keep clean. But to her amazement, she found fresh straw put down, the racks filled with hay, the cows milked, and the pails standing neatly in a row.

"Of course Jegu must have done this, hoping I'll give him a dance," she thought. When she met him outside the door, she stopped and thanked him for his help. Jegu only answered roughly that he didn't know what she was talking about, but this made her even more certain that he was the one.

The same thing happened every day. Never had the cow-house been so clean or the cows so fat. Morning and evening Barbaik found her earthen pots full of milk and a pound of freshly churned butter, decorated with leaves. After a few weeks she got so used to this that she only got up just in time to make breakfast.

Soon even that became unnecessary. One day she came downstairs and found the house swept, the furniture polished, the fire lit, and the food ready. She had nothing to do except ring the great bell that called the laborers from the fields to eat. She thought this was Jegu's work too, and she couldn't help feeling that a husband like that would be very useful for a girl who liked to sleep in and have fun.

In fact, Barbaik only had to wish for something and it would happen. If the wind was cold or the sun was hot and she didn't want to go outside in case it ruined her complexion, she just ran down to the spring nearby and said softly, "I'd like my churns to be full and my wet linen spread on the hedge to dry," and she never had to think about it again.

If she found the rye bread too hard to bake or the oven too slow to heat, she just murmured, "I'd like to see my six loaves on the shelf above the bread box," and two hours later they were there.

If she was too lazy to walk all the way to market along a dirty road, she would say out loud the night before, "Why am I not already back from Morlaix with my milk pot empty, my butter bowl inside it, a pound of wild cherries on my wooden plate, and the money I earned in my apron pocket?" And in the morning when she got up, there at the foot of her bed stood the empty milk pot with the butter bowl inside, the black cherries on the wooden plate, and six new silver coins in her apron pocket.

She believed all this was thanks to Jegu, and she couldn't do without him, even in her thoughts.

When things had reached this point, the brownie told the young man that he should ask Barbaik to marry him. This time the girl didn't turn rudely away but listened patiently. In her eyes he was still ugly and awkward, but he would certainly be a very useful husband.

She could sleep every morning until breakfast like a young lady. As for the rest of the day, it wouldn't be long enough for all she meant to do. She would wear the beautiful dresses that came when she wished for them, visit her neighbors (who would be dying of envy), and dance as much as she wanted.

Jegu would always be there to work for her, save for her, and watch over her. So, like a well-brought-up girl, Barbaik answered that it should be as her father pleased, knowing that old Riou had often said that after he died no one was more capable of running the farm.

The wedding took place the following month, and a few days later the old man died quite suddenly. Now Jegu had to see to everything himself, and somehow it wasn't as easy as when the farmer was alive. But once again the brownie stepped in and was better than ten laborers.

It was he who plowed, sowed, and reaped. If the work needed to be done quickly, the brownie called some of his friends. As soon as it was light, a crowd of little dwarfs could be seen in the fields, busy with hoes, forks, or sickles.

But by the time people were about, everything was finished, and the little fellows had disappeared.

All the payment the brownie ever asked for was a bowl of broth. From the very day of her marriage, Barbaik noticed with surprise and anger that things no longer got done for her as they had been before. She complained to Jegu about his laziness, and he just stared at her, not understanding what she meant. But the brownie, who was standing by, burst out laughing and confessed that all the good deeds she spoke of had been done by him for Jegu's sake, but now he had other business and it was high time she looked after her own house.

Barbaik was furious. Every morning when she had to get up before dawn to milk the cows and go to market, and every evening when she had to sit up until midnight to churn butter, her heart filled with rage against the brownie who had made her expect an easy and pleasant life. And when she looked at Jegu and saw his red face, squinting eyes, and messy hair, her anger doubled.

"If it weren't for you, you miserable dwarf!" she would mutter through her teeth. "If it weren't for you, I'd never have married that man. I'd still be going to dances where young men bring me presents of nuts and cherries and tell me I'm the prettiest girl in the parish. But now I only get presents from my husband. I can never dance except with my husband. Oh, you wretched dwarf, I'll never, ever forgive you!"

Despite her angry words, no one knew better than Barbaik how to swallow her pride when it suited her. After receiving an invitation to a wedding, she begged the brownie to get her a horse to ride there.

To her great joy he agreed, telling her to go to the city of the dwarfs and tell them exactly what she wanted. Excited, Barbaik started her journey. It wasn't long. When she reached the town, she went straight to the dwarfs, who were holding a meeting on a wide green field, and said, "Listen, my friends!

I've come to ask you to lend me a black horse with eyes, a mouth, ears, a bridle, and a saddle."

She had hardly spoken when the horse appeared. She mounted and started for the village where the wedding would be held.

At first she was so happy to have a break from the work she hated that she noticed nothing. But soon she thought it odd that people on the road laughed when they looked at her horse. Finally she heard a man say to another, "Why, the farmer's wife has sold her horse's tail!" She turned in the saddle. Yes, it was true. Her horse had no tail! She had forgotten to ask for one, and the wicked dwarfs had carried out her orders exactly.

"Well, at least I'll be there soon," she thought, and she shook the reins to make the horse gallop. But it was no use – the horse refused to go faster than a walk. She had to hear all the jokes people made about her.

In the evening she returned to the farm angrier than ever and quite determined to get revenge on the brownie as soon as she got the chance. That chance came very soon.

It was spring, the time of year when the dwarfs held their celebration. One day the brownie asked Jegu if he could bring his friends to have supper in the big barn and if they could dance there. Of course Jegu was only too happy to do anything for the brownie, and he ordered Barbaik to spread her best tablecloths in the barn, make lots of little loaves and pancakes, and save all the milk from that morning's cows. He expected her to refuse, because he knew she hated the dwarfs, but she said nothing and prepared the supper as he had asked.

When everything was ready, the dwarfs came bustling in, dressed in new green suits, very happy and merry, and took their seats at the table. But in a moment they all jumped up with a cry and ran away screaming, because Barbaik had placed pans of hot coals under their feet, and all their poor little toes were burned.

"You won't forget that in a hurry," she said, smiling grimly to herself. But in a moment the dwarfs were back with large pots of water, which they poured on the fire. Then they joined hands and danced around it, singing:

"Wicked traitress, Barne Riou, Our poor toes are burned by you; Now we hurry from your hall – Bad luck light upon you all."

That evening they left the country forever. Without their help, Jegu grew poorer and poorer and finally died of misery, while Barbaik was glad to find work in the market of Morlaix.