and twelve copper deniers;
besides my bracelets, my necklace and my earrings. With that we shall
have money enough to journey as far as Brittany. Night is upon us; we
shall spend it under the shelter of this hut. To-morrow we shall have
the woodcutter slave lead us to Werstern, a little burg situated on the
skirt of the forest, about two leagues from Aix-la-Chapelle. We shall
buy some simple clothing for myself, a traveling cloak of cloth.
To-morrow at daybreak we shall start on our route. Do not fear that I
shall recoil before fatigue. I am neither as tall nor as strong as my
sister Hildrude, and yet, if thou shouldst be tired or wounded, I am
sure I could carry thee on my back, just as my sister Imma once carried
her lover Eginhard on hers. But our chestnuts are now all shelled. Come
and help me to put them under the hot ashes. We shall eat them when
roasted."

Raising with one hand the fold of her robe in which lay the nuts,
Thetralde ran to the brasier. Vortigern followed her. He felt as in a
dream. At times his reason gave way under the spell of an ardent and
intoxicating vertigo. He knelt down silently, disturbed in mind, beside
Thetralde before the brasier, into which the girl, steeped in thought,
was slowly throwing the chestnuts one by one. Without, the rain had
stopped; but the mist, now thickened to a fog with the approach of
night, rendered the darkness complete. The reflection of the brasier
only lighted up the charming faces of the two children on their knees
beside each other. When the last chestnut had followed the others under
the cinders, Thetralde rose, and leaning with familiar candor on
Vortigern's shoulders said to him, taking his hand:

"And now, while thy supper is cooking, let us go back and sit down upon
the bench of moss for me to finish telling thee my prospects. I have
thought over what we are to do."

The night became profound. The flickering, vacillating flame in the
expiring brasier seemed to cry for fresh fuel. The chestnuts, that had
been consigned to its warmth, snapped noisily from their hulls into the
air, announcing that their toothsome pulp was ready to be partaken of.
Without, the horse and the palfrey of Vortigern and Thetralde pawed the
ground and neighed impatiently, as if calling for their provender. The
fire finally went out. The chestnuts changed to charcoal. The neighings
of the horses resounded ever louder in the midst of the nocturnal
silence of the forest. Thetralde