There was
something so courageous and heroic in the act of that single priest
in thus facing a ferocious and determined band, in defence of a
little girl,--for girls were but slightingly regarded in those far-off
days,--that it caught the savage fancy of the cruel king. And this,
joined with his respect for the Church's right of sanctuary, and with
the lessening of his thirst for blood, now that he had satisfied his
first desire for revenge, led him to desist.

"So be it then," he said, lowering his threatening sword. "I yield her
to thee, Sir Priest. Look to her welfare and thine own. Surely a girl
can do no harm."

But King Gundebald and his house lived to learn how far wrong was that
unguarded statement. For the very lowering of the murderous sword that
thus brought life to the little Princess Clotilda meant the downfall of
the kingdom of Burgundy and the rise of the great and victorious nation
of France. The memories of even a little maid of ten are not easily
blotted out.

Her sister, Sedelenda, had found refuge and safety in the convent of
Ainay, near at hand, and there, too, Clotilda would have gone, but her
uncle, the new king, said: "No, the maidens must be forever separated."
He expressed a willingness, however, to have the Princess Clotilda
brought up in his palace, which had been her father's, and requested
the priest Ugo of Rheims to remain awhile, and look after the girl's
education. In those days a king's request was a command, and the good
Ugo, though stern and brave in the face of real danger, was shrewd
enough to know that it was best for him to yield to the king's wishes.
So he continued in the palace of the king, looking after the welfare
of his little charge, until suddenly the girl took matters into her own
hands, and decided his future and her own.

The kingdom of Burgundy, in the days of the Princess Clotilda, was
a large tract of country now embraced by Southern France and Western
Switzerland. It had been given over by the Romans to the Goths, who had
invaded it in the year 413. It was a land of forest and vineyards,
of fair valleys and sheltered hill-sides, and of busy cities that the
fostering hand of Rome had beautified; while through its broad domain
the Rhone, pure and sparkling, swept with a rapid current from Swiss
lake and glacier, southward to the broad and beautiful Mediterranean.
Lyons was its capital, and on the hill of Fourviere, overlooking the
city below it, rose the marble p