r remained firmly fastened
to the parapet. Berthoald left his horse in charge of one of his
companions, and with a firm and light step walked over the plank,
quickly reaching the parapet, into which the plank was immediately drawn
back.

CHAPTER V.

ASYLUM.

Berthoald was received by the intendant, whom, controlling his own
anger, he followed to a near spot where two horses stood saddled.
Ricarik left about a dozen slaves and colonists behind to watch the
trench under the starry sky, and motioning Berthoald to one of the
horses, leaped upon the other and galloped ahead. The young chief rode
in the wake of his guide, rage alternating in his breast with curiosity
concerning the fighting abbess who gave such unsatisfactory tokens of
resignation to the decree that dispossessed her of her benefice. In the
course of the ride towards the abbey, Berthoald encountered two other
protected ditches, like the first, but crossable by means of drawbridges
that were let down to allow him and his guide to pass. A short while
after crossing the second of these two ditches, Berthoald stood near the
outer enclosure of the abbey. The enclosure consisted of thick joists
well fastened together and planted from bank to bank of the two ponds
that lay on both sides. The buildings of the abbey rose upon a vast
peninsular field, accessible only from the side of the causeway that had
just been put in a state of defence. Behind the monastery, a tongue of
land connected with the forest, whose crest bordered the horizon, thus
offering another passage. Berthoald noticed many lights inside of the
enclosure, projected, no doubt, by torches. The intendant took a copper
horn that hung from the pommel of his saddle and blew a call. An
iron-barbed door facing the jetty opened slowly. Preceded by his guide,
Berthoald entered the first courtyard of the abbey, and found himself
face to face with the abbess on horseback, surrounded by several
torch-bearing slaves. Meroflede had lowered the cape of her scarlet
cloak half over her forehead. At her side hung a gold-handled hunting
knife in a steel sheath. Berthoald was seized with astonishment at the
sight of the woman as she sat in the light of the torches. Her costume,
at once monastic and martial, set off the supple and easy frame of the
abbess. The young chief found her handsome as far as he could judge
across the shadow projected upon her face by her half-drawn cowl.

"I know that you are Berthoal