lief, there
you see no less ingenious an object. It is a Persian clock, sent to the
Emperor only four years ago by Abdhallah, the King of Persia." Saying
this, Octave pointed out to the young Breton and his grandfather, who
became no less interested than Vortigern himself, a large time-piece of
gilt bronze. Figures denoting the twelve hours surrounded the dial,
which was placed in the centre of a miniature palace made of bronze, and
likewise gilt. Twelve gates built in arcades were seen at the foot of
the monumental imitation. "When the hour strikes," Octave explained to
the Bretons, "a certain number of brass balls, equal in number to the
hour, drop upon a little cymbal. At the same moment, these gates fly
open, as many of them as the corresponding hour, and out of each a
cavalier, armed with lance and shield, rides forth. If it strikes one,
two or three o'clock, one, two or three gates open, the cavaliers ride
out, salute with their lances, return within, and the gates close upon
them."

"This is truly a marvelous contrivance!" exclaimed Amael. "And are the
names of the men known who fashioned these prodigies around us, these
magnificent paintings, that gold table where a whole city is reproduced
in relief, this organ, this clock, in short, all these marvels! Surely
their authors must have been glorified!"

"By Bacchus, Amael, your question is droll," answered Octave smiling.
"Who cares for the names of the obscure slaves who have produced these
articles?"

"But the names of Clovis, of Brunhild, of Clotaire, of Charles Martel
will survive the ages!" murmured the centenarian bitterly to himself,
while the young Roman remarked to Vortigern:

"Let us hurry; the Emperor is waiting for us. It will take whole days,
months and years to admire in detail the treasures that this palace is
full of. It is the favorite resort of the Emperor. And yet, as much as
his residence at Aix-la-Chapelle, he loves his old castle of Heristal,
the cradle of his mighty stock of mayors of the palace, where he has
heaped miracles of art."

CHAPTER IV.

CHARLEMAGNE.

Following their guide, the two hostages left the sumptuous and vast
galleries, and ascended, closely behind Octave, a spiral staircase that
led to the private apartment of the Emperor, the apartment around which
wound the balcony that served as observatory to Charles. Two richly
dressed chamberlains stood in the outer vestibule. "Stay for me here,"
Octave said to the