have become, would not
have presented you with this abbey. Consequently, you would not be here
now, at my side, at this table, where we are together drinking to
Love.... That is the reason why, my valiant warrior, I empty this cup to
the memory of that filthy Jew! And now, will you drink to the Jew
Mordecai?"

While Meroflede was uttering these words, Berthoald contemplated her
with increased astonishment, now mixed with fear, and could find not one
word in answer.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" said the abbess laughing, "see how dumb he has become. Why
grow alternately pale and red? What does it matter whether you are of
Gallic or Frankish race? Does that render your eyes less blue, your hair
less black, your shape less comely? Come, shame upon you, my warrior!
Must I teach a soldier how cups are emptied, and how love is made?"

Berthoald felt as if in a dream. Meroflede did not seem to despise him;
she did not seem to triumph at the advantage that she had gained over
him by the knowledge of his secret. Frank in her cynicism, she
contemplated the young chief with mild and ardent eyes. Her looks that
at once troubled his mind and fired his veins; the strangeness of the
adventure; the effect of the large cup that he had just drained at one
draught, either a heady wine or perchance mixed with some philtre, and
that began to throw his brain into disorder;--all these thoughts crowded
upon Berthoald's mind. He took a sudden resolve--to vie with the abbess
in audacity, and said resolutely to her: "You are of the race of
Neroweg, I of that of Joel!"

"We shall drink to Joel ... he has raised a breed of handsome soldiers."

"Are you acquainted with the death of the son of Gonthram Neroweg, whose
portrait I see there on the wall?"

"A tradition in my family has it that he was killed in his domain of
Auvergne by the chief of a troop of bandits and revolted slaves. May the
devil keep his soul!"

"The chief of those bandits was named Karadeucq ... he was the great
grandfather of my grandfather!"

"By heaven! That is a singular coincidence! And how did the bandit kill
Neroweg?"

"Your ancestor and mine fought valiantly with axes, and the count
succumbed. The Gaul triumphed over the Frank!"

"Indeed ... you refresh the recollections of my childhood. Did not your
ancestor cut some words in the trunk of a tree with the point of a
dagger after the combat?"

"Yes--'_Karadeucq, a descendant of Joel, killed Count Neroweg_'!"

"A few month