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It was Ronan. What? Back so soon? Yes! The Vagres do their work quickly. With one bound Odille was in the arms of her friend. "I killed one of them he was just about to run my Vagre through with his sword!" cried the bishopess returning from the encounter.
On another wagon, gorgeous in her gold necklaces and her most beautiful dress which her loving Vagre saved for her from the conflagration, the bishopess whiled away the time, either combed her long black hair with the aid of a little pocket mirror, or adjusted her scarf, or hopped about, crazy with joy, like a hen-linnet that had escaped from her cage.
We must pardon the bishopess for her want of kindness, not so, Loysik?" At that moment the young slave moved, gave a slight sigh, half raised her head, her eyes opened and looked around for Ronan. When they finally fell upon him she said, after a moment, in a weak voice: "Ronan, is the night over, and is it now day?"
But, the devil take grief! The hour calls for action!" "O, my sons! my sons!" "If my skin would save them and the bishopess I do not mean this bear-skin, but my own! by the faith of a Vagre, I would sacrifice it! You know that when you laid your plan before us, and that a ready fellow was needed to impersonate a bear, I promptly offered myself.
It was pronounced delectable. Biting into her Vagre's roast with her white teeth the bishopess remarked: "I now no longer wonder that he who was my husband always showed himself so implacable towards his kitchen slaves, and that he had them whipped for their slightest negligence the seigneur bishop was a better cook than any of them. No wonder he was hard to please!"
Ronan, Loysik the hermit-laborer, the handsome bishopess, little Odille and several other Vagres, all who had not died of their wounds since their capture, have for the last month been imprisoned in the ergastula, the jail of the burg, being thrown there immediately after the combat in the passage of Allange, where most of the Vagres lost their lives. The rest fled into the woods.
"I am afraid you must mean the blue shawl I lent to Lady Claudia the other evening," the Bishop's wife replied, with a hurt smile. "Oh!" said Ideala, disconcerted for a moment. "But, really, Bishopess, you deserve to be upbraided. You should set a better example, and not provoke us to scorn on the subject of your shawls."
Thus under shelter for a moment the old Vagre unfastened the chain from around the neck of the lover of the bishopess, whereupon continuing to grope their way under the table by the flickering light of the extinguishing torches on the floor, they reached the door of the banquet hall, which was free from the combatants, and rushed out.
On her knees near the young girl, the bishopess tended her wounds. The Vagres and the revolted slaves stood in a circle around. Neroweg stood pinioned, but savage and resolute of countenance those barbarians and thieves, however cowardly in their vengeance, are, it must be admitted even by us, their enemies, endowed with a certain savage bravery he cast an intrepid look at the Vagres.
On the front wagon, and seated on one of the cushions, little Odille whom the bishopess in loving tenderness thoughtfully clad in one of her own beautiful, although rather too long robes for the child no longer timorous but still laboring under the effect of her wonderment, opened her beautiful blue eyes, and, for the first time since many a long day, breathed in freedom the fresh and invigorating morning air that reminded her often of that of her own mountains from which she was torn, poor child, and cast into the burg of the count.
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