‘So Orthon went; and when it was the third hour next morning[1] the Sieur de Corasse rose and dressed as was his custom, and, leaving his chamber, came out into a gallery that looked into the central court of the castle. He glanced down, and the first thing he saw was a sow, larger than any he had ever beheld, but so thin that it seemed nothing but skin and bone. The Sieur de Corasse was troubled at the sight of the pig, and said to his servants: “Set on the dogs, and let them chase out that sow.”
‘The varlets departed and loosened the dogs, and urged them to attack the sow, which uttered a great cry and looked at the Sieur de Corasse, who stood leaning against one of the posts of his chamber. They saw her no more, for she vanished, and no man could tell whither she had gone.
‘Then the Sieur de Corasse entered into his room, pondering deeply, for he remembered the words of Orthon and said to himself: “I fear me that I have seen my messenger. I repent me that I have set my dogs upon him, and the more that perhaps he will never visit me again, for he has told me, not once but many times, that if I angered him he would depart from me.”
‘And in this he said well; for Orthon came no more to the castle of Corasse, and in less than a year its lord himself was dead.”
- ↑ Six o’clock.