If ever a plowman enjoyed the gentle tranquility of the fields, it was the brave Galdric, whose hovel was in the vicinity of the abbey of Valbonne. Every day he went to fertilize the lands of his master, having no other concern than that of tracing furrows.
The treasure of Valbonne
Now, one day Galdric was taking his meal in the shade of a large oak tree when an old woman passed, leaning on a hazel stick while walking.
- Hey! Santa Dona! cried the plowman.
And the good old woman, having stopped, exchanged a few insignificant words with her interlocutor. Then she left him saying:
Will be riquissim, you, fill méu, Si baixa la mara de Deu, (You will be very rich, you, my child, when the Virgin descends).
- Donchs, may ne seré, (I never will be).
- Will not be if thefts, (You will be if you want).
And the old woman disappeared, while Galdric burst out laughing.
Left alone and left to his own thoughts, the ploughman, naturally credulous, said to himself that it was not impossible after all that the prediction should come true: ridiculous! This sweet word sounded well in his ear; it haunted her mind and made her forget her songs. When evening came, he confided in his wife who, beaming, advised him to go and throw himself at the feet of the Virgin of Valbonne.
And the plowman went to recite prayers, in the chapel, before the statue of the Virgin, interrupting himself only to pronounce this formula:
- Baixi, mare de Peu, baixi. (Come down, mother of God, come down). But the Virgin was impassive on her pedestal.
Galdric then withdrew, still retaining boundless hope: The moment of the miracle has not yet arrived, he thought; let's wait. »
One fine day, however, seeing that his prayers produced no effect, he anticipated events, took the statue in his arms, and laid it down further away. He had the clumsiness to overturn the plinth and, bending down to pick up the debris, saw a worn slab on the ground which seemed to be blocking an opening. He quickly unsealed the stone and reached through the gaping opening: his fingers touched rough skin of a rather large volume and he gently withdrew the package.
What was his amazement, unfolding the skin to discover a heap of gold coins tinkling cheerfully! He greedily plunged his hands into it and, for an hour, remained as if hypnotized before the treasure. It was therefore riquissim, and this is how the prediction of the good old woman, probably sent by heaven, came true.
When he had quickly stuffed his pockets and filled his pockets, he got up to join his wife and tell her the happy news. But the calfskin he was carrying seemed to slip like a snake from his hands; the more he squeezed her in his fingers, the more she stirred; he wanted to throw it away from him, but he couldn't let go. And as if moved by an irresistible force, the skin crossed space, dragging the plowman by force across the fields.
Galdric walked thus for a long time towards the limitless horizon, without being able to let go of the pain and without being able to stop. After several days of walking, he arrived in hell where his greed was punished.
