e here, my poor child?"

"The seigneur Berthoald trusted the word of Charles, and Charles trusted
the word of the abbot of the convent. But after the departure of the
chief of the Franks and your son, the abbot, who had previously sold me
to a Jew named Mordecai, kept his bargain with the Jew.... In vain did I
beseech the warriors whom Charles left behind in possession of the
monastery, and as a guard over the little prince, to stand by me. I was
torn away from my family. The Jew kept the gold that your son had
generously given me, and brought me to this country. He sold me to the
intendant of this abbey that was donated by Charles to the seigneur
Berthoald, as I learned at the convent of St. Saturnine."

"This abbey was donated to my son!... He a companion in arms of these
accursed Franks!... He a traitor! a renegade! Oh, if you speak truly,
shame and perdition upon my son!"

"A traitor! A renegade!... The seigneur Berthoald! The most generous of
men! You judge your son too severely!"

"Listen, poor child, and you will understand my sorrow.... After a great
battle, delivered near Narbonne against the Arabs, I was taken by the
warriors of Charles. The booty and slaves were divided by lot. I and my
female fellow prisoners were told that we belonged to the chief
Berthoald and his men."

"You, a slave of your own son!... But, God, he did not know it!"

"Yes, the same as I did not know that my new master, the young Frankish
chief Berthoald, was my son Amael."

"And probably your son, who marched at the head of his troop, did not
see you on the journey."

"We were eight or ten female slaves in a covered cart. We followed the
army of Charles. Occasionally the men of chief Berthoald visited us, and
... but I shall spare your blushes, poor child, and shall not dilate
upon their infamous conduct!" added Rosen-Aer shuddering at the
disgusting and horrible recollection. "My age protected me from a shame
that, however, I was determined to escape by death.... My son never
joined in those orgies, frequently stained with blood and moistened in
tears--the men beat the girls to the point of shedding their blood when
they sought to resist being outraged. In that way we arrived in the
vicinity of the convent of St. Saturnine. We stopped there several
hours. The Jew Mordecai happened to be at the monastery. Learning, no
doubt, that there were slaves to buy in the train of the army, he came
to us accompanied by some men of the band