dred colonists, and nineteen hundred slaves."

"Berthoald ... you hear it! That is what you decline for yourself and
your men. Moreover, I would have created you count of the domain."

"Reserve for others than myself the favor you meant to bestow upon me. I
absolutely refuse the function of jailor."

"Seigneur," put in Father Clement with a holy resignation that, however,
but ill-concealed his anger at Charles: "You are the chief of the Franks
and all-powerful. If you establish your armed men on this domain, we
shall have to obey, but what will become of us?"

"And what will become of my companions in arms, who have valiantly
served me during the war while you were counting your beads?... Are they
to steal or beg their bread along the roads?"

"Seigneur ... there is a way of satisfying both your companions in arms
and ourselves. You wish to change this abbey into a military post. I
admit it, your armed men would be better keepers of the young prince
than we poor monks. But since you dispose of this abbey, deign,
illustrious seigneur, to bestow another one upon us. There is near
Nantes the abbey of Meriadek. One of our brothers, who died recently,
lived there several years as the intendant. He left with us an inventory
containing an exact list of the goods and persons of that abbey. It was
at the time under the rule of St. Benoit. We have learned that later it
was changed into a community of women. But we have no positive
information on that head. But that would matter little."

"And that abbey," Charles asked, rubbing his beard with a sly look, "you
ask me for it as a charity to you and your monks?"

"Yes, seigneur; since you dispossess us of this one, we solicit
indemnity."

"And what is to become of the present holders of the abbey of Meriadek?"

"Alack! what we would have become. The will of God be done. Charity
begins at home."

"Yes, provided the will of God turn in your favor. Is the abbey rich?"

"Seigneur, with the aid of God, we could live there humbly and in
seclusion and prayer and with a little privation."

"Monk, no false pretences! Is that abbey worth more or is it worth less
than this one? I wish to know whether it is a cow or a goat I am giving
away. If you deceive me, I may some day go back upon my gift. Moreover,
you just said you had an exact inventory of the abbey's havings. Come,
speak up, you old dotard!"

"Yes, seigneur," answered the abbot biting his lips and proceeding to
look in