ron a roll of thin but strong rope, furnished with knots at intervals.
"There is at the end, as you see, an iron hook; you will fasten that to
this bar, and you will then let yourself down from knot to knot till you
reach the ground."

"Oh! I am no longer afraid! But where shall I hide the rope? Where shall
I keep it until evening?"

"Under the mattress of your bed."

"Good! Give it to me!" and the young prince, helped by Septimine, hid
the rope well under the mattress. Hardly had they re-covered the bed
when trumpets were heard blowing at a distance. Septimine and Childeric
looked at each other for a moment in astonishment. The young girl
returned to her seat, took up her distaff and observed in great
excitement:

"Something unusual is going on outside of the abbey.... They may come
here.... Take up your huckle-bones and play with them."

Childeric mechanically obeyed the orders of the young girl, sat down on
the floor, and began to play huckle-bones, while Septimine, with
apparent unconcern, spun at her distaff near the window. A few minutes
later the door of the room opened. Father Clement, the abbot of the
convent, came in and said to the young girl: "You can go away; I shall
call you back if I want you."

Septimine hastened to leave; but thinking she could profit by a moment
when the monk did not see her, she placed her finger to her lips in
order to convey to Childeric a last warning of discretion. The abbot
happening to turn around suddenly, the girl hardly had time to carry her
hand to her hair in order to conceal the meaning of her first gesture.
Septimine feared she had aroused the suspicion of Father Clement, who
followed her with penetrating eyes, and her apprehensions ripened into
certainty when, having arrived at the threshold of the door and turning
a last time to salute the Father, her eyes met his scrutinizing gaze
fixed upon her.

"May God help us," said the poor girl seized with mortal anxiety and
leaving the room. "At the sight of the monk the unhappy prince became
purple in the face.... He did not take his eyes from the bed where we
hid the rope. Oh, I tremble for the little fellow and for us!... Oh!
What will come of it?"

CHAPTER II.

CHARLES MARTEL.

Charles the Hammer, or Martel, had arrived at the convent of St.
Saturnine escorted by only about a hundred armed men. He was on the way
to join a detachment of his army that lay encamped at a little distance
from the abbey. The