Ropike
Long ago, there lived a woman. One day, she decided to take her yarn to a weaver to be woven into cloth. But just as she finished spinning the threads, the devil entered her house and said:"Good day, mistress!"
"Good day, sir!"
"If you wish, I will weave for you for free, but on one condition: you must guess my name."
"Gladly," replied the woman. "Perhaps your name is Jean?"
"No, my dear."
"Then maybe Claude?"
"No."
"So, is it François?"
"No, no, good woman, it seems you won't guess it. But remember this: if you guess correctly, I will weave the cloth for you for free."
The woman went through every name she could think of, but she couldn't figure out the devil's name. Finally, he said:
"I am leaving now; in two hours, I will bring the woven cloth. If you haven't guessed my name by then, the cloth will be mine."
When the devil left, the woman went into the forest to gather firewood. She stopped near a tall oak tree and began collecting fallen branches. Meanwhile, the devil was sitting right in that tree—he was weaving diligently, his loom clacking away, and little devils, his helpers, were scurrying around him. As he wove, the devil chanted:
"Tick-tock, tick-tock! My name is Ropike, Ropike. If the spinner knew my name, she would dance with joy."
The woman looked up and recognized her visitor. She quickly wrote down the name she had just heard on her wooden clog and repeated it all the way home: "Ropike, Ropike." She had barely arrived home when the devil appeared.
"Here is your cloth," he said. "Well, have you figured out my name yet?"
"Is your name perhaps Eugène?"
"No, no."
"Maybe Émile?"
"Wrong again."
"Then perhaps your name is Ropike?"
"Ah!" the devil shrieked. "If you hadn't been under that tree, you would never have known!"
And with that, he ran off into the forest, roaring terribly and uprooting trees along the way.
As for me, I was sitting in that oak tree at the time, and I barely managed to jump down and make it home in time.
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