by her husband's, the Gallic woman cried, casting a look of
contempt at the priest:

"Whence comes this stranger? What does he want? Is he a messenger of
peace or of war? Race of priests, race of vipers."

"This monk is sent by the King of the Franks," answered the Breton
chief; "I do not yet know whether he brings peace or war."

Noblede looked at her husband with increasing astonishment, when the
abbot, considering the moment favorable to obtain the desired answer
from Morvan, said:

"I am to return immediately. What answer shall I carry to Louis the
Pious?"

"You cannot resume your journey without taking some rest," Noblede
hastened to observe, while, with her eyes, she interrogated her husband,
who seemed to have relapsed into incertitude. "It will be time enough to
depart early in the morning. Remain here over night to recover your
strength."

"No, no!" exclaimed the abbot with impatience, fearing the influence of
the Gallic woman upon her husband. "I return immediately. Shall I take
to Louis the Pious words of peace or of war? I must have a categoric
answer."

The Breton chief, however, rose from his seat, and walking towards the
door of the apartment answered Witchaire:

"I shall use the few remaining hours of the night to think the matter
over; to-morrow you will have my answer." Saying this, and despite the
insistence of the abbot upon an immediate answer, Morvan left the
guest's room, accompanied by Noblede.

A few minutes later, Morvan, his wife, Vortigern and Caswallan,
assembled at a secluded spot, under the spreading branches of a tall oak
tree not far from the house, to consider the subject of Abbot
Witchaire's errand to Brittany.

"What does this messenger of the King of the Franks want?" asked
Vortigern of Morvan.

"If we consent to pay tribute to Louis the Pious and to recognize him as
our sovereign, we shall escape an implacable war. I know not what answer
to make. I hesitate before the prospect of the disasters that will
attend a new struggle--the massacres, the fires."

"Hesitate! Yield to threats!"

"Brother," answered Morvan with deep sadness, "the Breton people are no
longer what they once were."

"You are right!" put in Caswallan. "The breath of the Catholic Church,
so deadly to the freedom of the people, has passed over this unhappy
country also. The patriotism of a large number of our tribes has cooled.
But, on the other hand, should you consent to submit to a shameful
pea