"I don't know, Gildas; and I am not sure whether I should notify madam. A minute ago I begged you to look and see if the dragoon did not come back. I feared he was charged to spy upon us. Fortunately it was not so. Would you advise me to notify madam, or to say nothing? To speak may alarm her; to keep silent may, perhaps, be wrong. What is your opinion?" "It is my opinion that you should notify madam. She may become justly suspicious of that big order for linen. Hem!--hem!" "I shall follow your advice, Gildas." "And you will be wise if you do! Oh, my dear lassy, these men with helmets--" "Well, now, I am ready. Let's have your song." "It is an awful story, Jeanike! Mother told it to me a hundred times in the evenings, just as my grandmother had told it to her, and just as my grandmother's grandmother--" "Come, Gildas," broke in Jeanike, laughing. "If you keep up at that rate from grandmother to grandmother, you are bound to go back to our mother Eve." "Sure! Do our countrypeople not transmit from generation to generation narratives that go back to--" "A thousand and fifteen hundred years, and even further back, like the stories of Myrdin and of The Baron of Jauioz, with which I have been rocked to sleep in my cradle. I am well aware of it, Gildas." "Well, Jeanike, the song that I have in mind is about people who wear helmets, and prowl around young girls. It is a frightful story. It is called The Three Red Monks," said Gildas, looking formidable;--"The Three Red Monks; or, The Sire of Plouernel." "What's that?" asked Jeanike interestedly, being struck by the name. "The Sire of--" "The Sire of Plouernel." "Singular!" "Singular what?" "I've heard Monsieur Lebrenn mention that name, more than once." "The name of the Sire of Plouernel? On what occasion?" "I'll tell you later. First of all, let's have the song of the Three Red Monks. It will interest me doubly." "You must know, first of all, my lassy, that the red monks were Templars, and wore a sword and helmet, just like that sparrow-hawk of a dragoon." "Very well, now go on. Madam may come down any moment, and monsieur is due here now." "Listen attentively, Jeanike." And Gildas commenced the following recitative. It was not sung, exactly, but was chanted like a psalm in a grave and melancholic voice: "At every limb I shudder, I shudder at the sorrows that afflict our people. I shudder at the thought of the event that took place, That has just taken place in the town of Kemper, That took place at Kemper just a year ago. "Katelik walked her way as she counted her beads, When three monks in red, all three Templars were they, And armed at all points, joined Katelik; three monks, Astride of their huge barbed steeds, Barbed from mane down to hoofs.