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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.
Here you have only friends; you are still young, do not despair." The child contemplated the Vagre with wondering eyes; he spoke to her in a gentle voice. She stepped towards the altar and sat down; she looked at Ronan only; she listened only to his words. "O! Master of the Hounds!
"Those were horrible times, but by the faith of a Vagre, we rendered them frightful to many a conqueror himself. Well, agreeable to the request of Loysik, we drew near the confines of Burgundy and arrived in the vicinity of Marcigny early in autumn. In that happily located region the fall of the year is as mild as summer.
May He grant me the favor of never running across any of them except as he hangs from the gibbet the way I saw the first and last one whom I ever laid eyes upon it was a terrible sight! The thought of it still makes me tremble." "Where did you see that Vagre on the gibbet?"
"Well, my father was a Bagauder in his youth; later, after the Franks christened us 'Vagres, he became a Vagre. The name was changed, the pursuit remained the same." "And your mother?" "In Vagrery one knows but little of his mother. I never knew mine. The furthest back that I can carry my memory, I must have been seven or eight years old.
"Ronan," she murmured convulsively seizing the arm of the Vagre, "I have neither father nor mother left; you delivered me from the count and the bishop; you have a good heart; you are full of pity for the poor; you have treated me with the tenderness of a brother; it was only last night that I saw you for the first time, and yet it seems to me that I have known you long, long "
And the girl took both the Vagre's hands, kissed them, and added with tremulous lips: "If those Franks should kill you! "If they should kill me, little Odille?" Saying this the Vagre turned his head towards the hermit, and pointing to him with his eyes added: "Should the Franks kill me, yonder good hermit-laborer will protect you."
"Oh, Kervan," Ronan the Vagre proceeded after a short respite, "it almost looks as if these Frankish Kings and all their family are predestined to become the subjects of horror to the whole world. I shall now narrate to you the manner of Chram's death.
You will have the Vagre led out of the ergastula after dark, and taken to Spatachair, one of my favorites. Leave the rest to me. To-morrow we shall say to the bishop: 'The Vagre has fled' why do you laugh, Count Neroweg?" "At that Vagre who will be thinking that he is to gain twenty gold sous, and who will receive instead a hundred blows with an iron bar, and then be quartered."
She chatted, laughed, sang, sang again, and threw sidelong glances at her Vagre every time that, with his light step and triumphant mien, he passed by her wagon. Suddenly, as her eyes happened to fall upon a distant object, she seemed moved with pity.
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