give it as best I can in his own language, retaining his popular
parlance.

"Madame, folks from Croisic and those from Batz think this man is
guilty of something, and is doing a penance ordered by a famous rector
to whom he confessed his sin somewhere beyond Nantes. Others think
that Cambremer, that's his name, casts an evil fate on those who come
within his air, and so they always look which way the wind is before
they pass this rock. If it's nor'-westerly they wouldn't go by, no,
not if their errand was to get a bit of the true cross; they'd go
back, frightened. Others--they are the rich folks of Croisic--they say
that Cambremer has made a vow, and that's why people call him the Man
of the Vow. He is there night and day, he never leaves the place. All
these sayings have some truth in them. See there," he continued,
turning round to show us a thing we had not remarked, "look at that
wooden cross he has set up there, to the left, to show that he has put
himself under the protection of God and the holy Virgin and the
saints. But the fear that people have of him keeps him as safe as if
he were guarded by a troop of soldiers. He has never said one word
since he locked himself up in the open air in this way; he lives on
bread and water, which is brought to him every morning by his
brother's daughter, a little lass about twelve years old to whom he
has left his property, a pretty creature, gentle as a lamb, a nice
little girl, so pleasant. She has such blue eyes, long as _that_," he
added, marking a line on his thumb, "and hair like the cherubim. When
you ask her: 'Tell me, Perotte' (That's how we say Pierette in these
parts," he remarked, interrupting himself; "she is vowed to Saint
Pierre; Cambremer is named Pierre, and he was her godfather)--'Tell
me, Perotte, what does your uncle say to you?'--'He says nothing to
me, nothing.'--'Well, then, what does he do to you?' 'He kisses me on