"Dost thou hear, bishop?" broke in Ronan. "Dost thou hear, renegade Gaul? It is thy allies, the Franks, who in this as well as in the other provinces, put old men and babes to death as useless mouths, and carry away the men and women of our race to restock the lands of Gaul which the kings have parceled out among their warriors after plundering us of our patrimony. It is thy allies, thy friends, thy brothers in Christ and in God who commit these execrable deeds. And yet thou orderest these poor people, under the penalty of hell, to obey those plunderers, those thieves, those ravishers, those murderers, who violate and kill mothers under the very eyes of their daughters! Didst thou hear that story, Gallic bishop?"
"The Franks respect the property of the Church and the servants of the Lord--while you, accursed pack, you dare to lift impious hands against both the property and the priests of the Church!"
"We arrived at the burg. The count had me taken to his chamber. He threw himself upon me; I tried to resist; he struck me in the face with his fist; my face was bathed in blood; pain and fright rendered me senseless, and the seigneur count violated me. I was afterwards locked up with other female slaves in the apartment of his wife Godegisele; a very gentle woman for so wicked a man. To-night, one of the leudes came for me and brought me hither on his horse. He said to me that I was to be the bishop's slave."
"And does that frighten you, poor child, to be a slave of the seigneur bishop?"
"My mother and relatives were killed; I am a slave and disgraced besides. I tried to strangle myself with my hair; but I was afraid--and yet I wish I could die."
"And she is only fourteen, bishop! Didst thou hear?"
"Sit down on the steps of the altar, little Odille. 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! Master of the Hounds!" cried one of the lusty Vagres, who stood near one of the small doors of the chapel opening into the garden. "Whither are you bound with the bishopess on your arm? Would she not like to come and see her darling husband, the holy Bishop Cautin, before we hang him?"