s or on the cruppers of their cavaliers' horses. At a short distance from the lists where lay the corpses of a considerable number of serfs, killed in their futile attempt at revolt, flows the Orvi

from a branch of a willow on the bank of the river. A man then brings to the bridge a large bag of coarse grey material, of the kind used by the millers. A strong cord inserted at its mouth like a purse-string enables its being tied closely. Mazurec the Lambkin is led forward tightly pinioned. Up to then he had been seated at one end of the bridge near the vicar. The latter after having placed the crucifix to the mouths of the serfs that had been hanged, returned to the victim about to be drowned. Mazurec is no longer recognizable. His bruised face covered with clotted blood is hideous to

nto the bag, he raises his head, and addressing the Sire of Nointel

drowned ... you will die drowned. Sire of Nointel, you have done violence to my wife ... your wife will be done violence to. Mayhap my wife may bring to the

inister prophecy of his vassal, and was unable to utter a word. Gerard, however, addressing the serf who was being "bagged" burst out laughing and

runs under the bridge and that is about to swallow you up ... should Jacques Bonhomme still dare to kick

rl him into the river, the vassal's voice was heard for the last time from within the canvas.

f's prediction, and amidst the silence of night the splash was h

e; "let's return to the castle; this place frightens me. The prophecy of that

Conrad, are you be

d to-day is of ill-omen.

ho was walking away at a rapid pace. "What is that you sai

of his castle; I desire that you depart that same evening to join the forces of the King; and even then I shall not be your wife un

ied Gerard. "The romances of kn

Conrad, to-morrow I shall take the oath at the altar to finish my days in a monastery,

blows to be fetched in war, and your betrothed runs the chances of seeing you retur

her. Her wealth is considerable. I have dissipated a good part of my fortune at the court of King John. I cannot r

n fight ... pruden

Gloriande ... provided during my absence

ut aloud. "You surely are not troubled with the fear that d

ed to insult, to menace and to throw themselve

me and love to the stupid and dangerous feats of war, I shall accompany you to the army, so as to bring you back soon to the beautiful Gloriande. As to the English prisoners that you are to lead in chains to her feet as a pledge of your valor, we shall scrape together a few leagu

love Gloriande. But the resistance of the scamp, who, besides, charged you with theft, irritated me." And resuming after a moment of silence, the Sire of Nointel addressed

suspicion i

of the dead serf that I put the

n yourself m

justly drowned ... his prop

as to be drowned?... The devil! It is I who mean to drown your sadness in a cup of good Burgundy wine.... Come, Conrad, to horse

y, but a tradition, handed down from the elder branch of my family, located at Auvergne, comes back to me

g your stirrup for the last hour," broke in the chee

el still mumbled while swinging himself on his horse's back, and