ries by order of
their brother, Louis the Pious,"[D] was the sententious answer of
Witchaire. "May they, by dint of repentance, merit the pardon of heaven
for their past and abominable libertinage."

"And Thetralde, the youngest of Charles' daughters, did she share the
fate of her sisters?"

"Thetralde died long ago."

"She died!" exclaimed Vortigern, unable to conceal his emotion. "Poor
child! So beautiful--and to die so young!"

"She, at least, never gave Charles cause to blush."

"And what was the cause of the death of that child? Could you tell me?"

"It is not known. Up to her fifteenth year she enjoyed a nourishing
health. Suddenly she began to languish, grew ill, and barely in her
sixteenth year, her light went out, in the arms of her father, who never
ceased weeping for her. But this is quite enough about the daughters of
Charles the Great. Once more, will you or will you not, endeavor to
cause Morvan to abandon a resolution that can have for its only effect
the ruin of this country? You are silent--do you refuse?"

Absorbed in the thoughts that the fate of the ill-starred Thetralde had
started in his mind, Vortigern remained mute and melancholy. His
thoughts flew to the young girl who died so young, and the touching
remembrance of whom had long remained alive with him. Impatient at the
prolonged silence of the Breton, the abbot put his hand on Vortigern's
shoulder, and repeated his question:

"I ask you, yes or no, will you endeavor to cause Morvan to renounce his
insensate resolution?"

"Your King wants war; he shall have war."

And Vortigern, relapsing into his own meditations, rode silently beside
Witchaire until the two reached the city of Guenhek. There Vortigern
entrusted the guidance of the abbot to an experienced guide, and while
the messenger of Louis the Pious proceeded towards the frontier of
Brittany, the brother of Noblede hastened back and rejoined his wife
Josseline at the house of Morvan.

CHAPTER IV.

THE DEFILE OF GLEN-CLAN.

The defile of Glen-Clan is the only practicable passage across the last
links of the Black Mountains--a mountain chain that constitutes a
veritable girdle of granite as a natural protection to the heart of
Brittany. The defile of Glen-Clan is so narrow that a wagon can barely
thread it; it is so steep that six yoke of oxen are barely able to drag
a wagon up its craggy incline, from the top of which a stone of
considerable size would roll rapidly d