ortigern and
myself forgot all about the chestnuts. Thereupon sleep overtook us and
we stretched ourselves to rest."

"But what was the subject, my child, of the discussion between you and
the lad?"

"Alack! I had wicked thoughts--those thoughts were combatted by
Vortigern with all his might. It was upon that that our dispute ran. But
I must admit that, after all, he was right. You will never believe me. I
wanted to flee from Aix-la-Chapelle and go to Brittany with
Vortigern--to marry him."

"To leave me--my daughter--abandon your father--me, who love you so
much?"

"Those were the very arguments of Vortigern. 'Thetralde, dost thou think
well,' he said to me, 'to leave thy father who loves thee? Wouldst thou
have the regrettable courage to cause him so deep a grief? And as to
myself, whom, as well as my grandfather, he has treated with kindness,
should I be thy accomplice? No! No! Moreover, I am here a prisoner on
parole. To flee would be to disgrace myself. My mother would refuse to
see me.' 'Thy mother loves thee too much not to pardon thee,' I said to
Vortigern; 'my father also will pardon me; he is so good! Did he not
show himself indulgent towards my sisters, who have their lovers as he
has his mistresses? To love can neither hurt nor injure others. Once
married, we shall return to my father. Happy at seeing us again, he will
forget everything else, and we shall live near him as do Eginhard and my
sister Imma.' But Vortigern, ever inflexible, returned incessantly upon
his word as a prisoner and the grief that his flight would cause his
mother and grandfather. His warm tears mingled with mine as he consoled
and chide me for the child that I was. Finally, after our dispute had
lasted a long while, and we had wept a good deal, he said to me:
'Thetralde, it is now late; thou surely must feel fatigued; thou
shouldst lie down on this bed of moss; I shall lay myself across the
entrance with my bare sword at my side, to defend thee, if need be.' I
did begin to feel sleepy; Vortigern covered me with his tunic; I fell
asleep and was dreaming about him when I was awakened by you, my
father."

The Emperor of the Franks listened to the naive recital with a mixture
of tenderness, apprehension and grief. At its close he heaved a sigh of
profound relief that seemed to issue from the silent reflection: "What a
danger did not my daughter escape!" This thought soon dominated all the
others that crowded to his mind. Charles aga