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din, which you must pass through, has a ⟨bad⟩ name. It is haunted by wolves and robbers, not to mention the sorcerers who meet there.
'I have a good goblet of wine in me⟨'⟩, said the old man, 'a fine fur cloak on my shoulders, and a good iron club in my hand. With all these, I defy the cold, wolves, and robbers. As to wizards and devils, if I meet any, they shall dance to the sound of my violin. They will tell me if the musicians in hell play a better fiddle than old Matthew Wilmart.'
In finishing these words, which made the young people laugh, and the old men shake their heads in displeasure, he enveloped himself in his cloak, and set out at a firm pace on the path which led through the forest to Hesdin.
He had not been more than a quarter of an hour on his way, when the sky, just before blue and starry, was suddenly covered with an immense cloud. The darkness became frightful. Our fiddler began to regret that he refused a good bed at Auffin. But it was too late to retrace his steps. Besides, after his bravadoes, they would not fail to laugh at him for his want of courage. He continued his course. To add to his chagrin, he discovered that he had lost the path.
What was to be done. To advance was only to loose his way still more effectually.
