turn, as we are about to
dispossess this abbess, we shall be able to prove that we wear hose and
not skirts."

"Our tapers are lances, our benedictions sabre cuts."

"Let us hasten our horses; it will soon be night and I am hungry....
Upon the word of Richulf, two whole hams, four pikes and a whole
mountain of cabbage will barely suffice to appease my hunger."

"Sharpen your teeth, glutton! As to me, I propose to invite the abbess
and her nuns. The feast will then be complete."

"I shall invite the young and handsome ones to share our lodgings at the
abbey. What say you, comrades?"

"What! Invite them, Sigewald!... They must, by my beard! They shall be
forced to remain with us.... The good Charles will laugh at the move. If
the Bishop of Nantes should raise a howl, we shall tell him to come and
take his sheep from the wolves."

"The devil take the Bishop of Nantes! The day of these tonsured people
has gone by, that of the soldier has come!... We are masters in our
house!"

While his companions were delivering themselves of these gross jokes,
Berthoald preceded them silent and pensive. Charles had invested him
with the high dignity of count; he dragged a rich booty behind him in
his carts; the donation of the abbey insured to him the possession of a
large income; all notwithstanding, the young chief seemed troubled in
mind; at times a bitter and painful smile curled his lips. The Frankish
riders were presently on the narrow road at either side of which an
immense pond extended as far as the eye could reach. Richulf presently
said to the young chief: "I do not know whether it is the dusk that
impedes my sight, but it looks to me as if this road is cut off by a
mound of earth a little distance ahead of us."

"Let us look at that a little closer," said Berthoald, putting his horse
to a gallop. Richulf and Sigewald followed him. Soon the three found
their advance intercepted by a deep and wide moat cut into the road and
filled with water that flowed into it from two ponds. On the other side
of the moat rose a kind of breastwork of earth protected with enormous
piles. The obstacle was serious. Night drew near, and on either side the
ponds extended as far as the eye could reach. Berthoald turned around to
his companions who were no less surprised than himself: "The breastwork,
like the abbey, has a decidedly martial mien."

"This ground has been recently thrown up. The bark of the piles is still
fresh, as also the