steward of the palace and one of the officers of the
squad that accompanied him were installed in a room that served as the
refectory of Father Clement, while the latter went for the little
prince.

At this period in the full vigor of his age, Charles Martel exaggerated
in his language and costume the rudeness of his Germanic stock. His
beard and hair, which were of a reddish blonde, were kept untrimmed and
shaggy, and framed in a face of high color, that bore the imprint of
rare energy coupled with a good nature that was at times both jovial and
sly. His keen eyes revealed an intelligence of superior order. Like the
lowest of his soldiers, he wore a coat of goat-skin over his tarnished
armor. His boots, made of heavy leather, were armed with rusty iron
spurs. From his leather baldric hung a long sword of Bordeaux, a town
renowned for its manufacture of arms.

The officer who accompanied Charles Martel seemed to be twenty-five
years of age--tall, slender, powerfully built. He wore his brilliant
steel armor with military ease, half-hidden under a long white cloak
with black tufts, after the Arabian fashion. His magnificent scimitar,
with both handle and scabbard of solid gold and ornamented with
arabesques of coral and diamonds, likewise was of Arabian origin. The
young man's face was of rare manly beauty. He had placed his casque upon
a table. His wavy black hair, divided in the middle of his head, fell in
ringlets on both sides of his forehead, which was furrowed by a deep
scar, and shaded his manly face that bore a slight brown beard. His eyes
of the blue of the sea, usually mild and proud, seemed however to reveal
a secret sorrow or remorse. At times a nervous twitch brought his
eyebrows together, and his features would for a while become somber.
Soon, however, thanks to the mobility of his impressions, the ardor of
his blood, and the impetuosity of his character, his face would again
resume its normal expression.

Charles, who for a while had been silently contemplating his young
companion with a kind and sly satisfaction, at last broke the silence,
saying in his hoarse voice:

"Berthoald, how do you like this abbey and the fields that we have just
traversed?"

"The abbey seems to me large, the fields fertile. Why do you ask?"

"Because I would like to make you a present to your taste, my lad."

The young man looked at the Frankish chief with profound astonishment.

Charles Martel proceeded: "In 732, it is