“Ah, that’s an unlucky name, my child,” said the Baron.
“In what way my Lord?” asked the girl.
“Because it makes you a prey for the wolf, my beauty. And from what part of the country do you come, Agnelette?”
“From Préciamont, my Lord.”
“And you come alone like this into the forest, my child? that’s brave for a lambkin.”
“I am obliged to do it, my Lord, for my mother and I have three goats to feed.”
“So you come here to get grass for them?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“And you are not afraid, young and pretty as you are?”
“Sometimes, my Lord, I cannot help trembling.”
“And why do you tremble?”
“Well, my Lord, I hear so many