see again, although this abbey lies not far from the
cradle of my family," and the old man, who during the whole of his
narrative had kept steadily at work at the abbatial crosier that he was
chiseling, dropped on his knee the hand that held the burin. He remained
silent and pensive for a few seconds. Then, waking up with a start, he
proceeded addressing the young slaves under him, who wondered at his
silence: "My lads, I have allowed myself to be carried away despite
myself by recollections that are at once sweet and painful to my
mind.... Where did I leave off?"

"You were telling us, Father Bonaik, that you were taken as a slave at
the age of sixteen to the abbey of Solignac in Limousin."

"Yes; well, it was there that I first saw the great artist. Once every
year he left Noyon to visit the abbey. He had inducted his apprentice
Thil abbot of the place, and the abbot directed the goldsmith's
workshop. The good Eloi was quite old then; but he loved to come to the
workshop to oversee and direct the work. He often took the file or the
burin from our hands to show us how to use it, and in such a paternal
manner did he act that all our hearts went out to him. Oh! those were
good days.... The slaves were not allowed to leave the territory of the
monastery, but they felt as happy there as one can under bondage. At
every visit that he paid the place, Eloi inquired after them to
ascertain whether they were kindly treated. After his death, however,
everything changed."

The old goldsmith had reached this epoch in his narrative when the door
of the workshop opened and two personages stepped in.

CHAPTER II.

THE INTENDANT RICARIK.

One of the persons who entered Father Bonaik's workshop was Ricarik, the
intendant of the abbey, a Frank of a low and vulgar appearance; the
other was Septimine, the slave of the abbey of St. Saturnine, whose
freedom, together with her father's and mother's, Berthoald had a few
days previous sued for and obtained at the hands of Charles Martel.
Since her departure from the abbey of St. Saturnine, the poor child had
become hardly recognizable. Her charming face had thinned and was
pale--so much had she suffered and wept. She followed the intendant
silent and confused.

"Our holy dame, Abbess Meroflede, sends you this slave," said Ricarik to
the old goldsmith, pointing at Septimine, who, ashamed at finding
herself among the young apprentices, did not dare to raise her eyes.
"Meroflede b