sing to
the eye. Then there are also the earthen molds into which the metal is
poured, and here and there upon little tables some models taken from the
debris of antique art that have been found among the ruins of Roman
Gaul. There is nothing from the grinding of the files to the panting
breath of the bellows, that is not like sweet music to the ear of the
artisan grown old at the trade. Such is the passion of this art that the
slave at times forgets his bondage, and has no thought but for the
marvels that he fashions for his master.

Like other rich convents of Gaul, the abbey of Meriadek had its little
gold and silver shop. An old man, almost ninety-six years of age, was
overseeing the work of four young apprentices, slaves like himself, all
busy in a vaulted ground floor room, lighted by an arched window, that
was furnished with iron bars and that opened upon a moat full of water,
the convent having been built upon a sort of peninsula almost wholly
surrounded by deep ponds. The forge was placed against one of the walls,
into the thick body of which a kind of vault was dug that led below by
several steps. It contained the supply of charcoal required for the
work. The old goldsmith, whose face and hands were blackened by the
smoke of the forge, wore a smock-frock half hidden by a large leathern
apron, and was engaged in chiseling with great professional delight a
little silver abbatial crosier that he held on his knees.

"Father Bonaik," said one of the young slaves to the old man, "this is
the eighth day that our comrade Eleuthere has not come at all to the
workshop ... where can he be?"

"God knows, my boys ... but let us talk of something else."

"I am half of your opinion, old father; on the matter of Eleuthere I
have as strong a desire to speak as to hold my tongue. I have discovered
a secret. It burns my tongue. And I fear it will be cut off if I talk."

"Come, my lad," replied the old man, chiseling away at his work, "keep
your secret. That's the most prudent thing you can do."

But more inquisitive than the old man, the other young apprentices
insisted so much with their comrade that, overcome by their
importunities, he told them: "Day before yesterday--it was the sixth day
since the disappearance of Eleuthere--I took, by order of Father Bonaik,
a silver bowl to the abbey. The attendant at the turning-box told me to
wait while she went inside to inquire whether there were any articles of
silver that neede