“I make a vow to Monsieur the Saint Eloi, under whose invocation are the silversmiths, to fashion two images of pure silver, with the best workmanship I am able to perform.  One shall be a statue of Madame the Virgin, to this end, to thank her for the liberty of my dear wife; and the other for my said patron, if I am successful in my undertaking to liberate the bondswoman Tiennette here present, and for which I rely upon his assistance.  Moreover, I swear by my eternal salvation, to persevere with courage in this affair, to spend therein all I process, and only to quit it with my life.  God has heard me,” said he.  “And you, little one,” he added, turning towards the maid.

“Ha! monseigneur, look!  My cow is running about the fields,” cried she, sobbing at the good man’s knees.  “I will love you all my life; but withdraw your vow.”

“Let us to look after the cow,” said the silversmith, raising her, without daring yet to kiss her, although the maid was well disposed to it.

“Yes,” said she, “for I shall be beaten.”

And behold now the silversmith, scampering after the cursed cow, who gave no heed to their amours; she was taken by the horns, and held in the grip of the Touranian, who for a trifle would have thrown her in the air, like a straw.

“Adieu, my sweet one!  If you go into the town, come to my house, over against St Leu’s Church.  I am called Master Anseau, and am silversmith to the King of France, at the sign of St. Eloi.  Make me a promise to be in this field the next Lord’s-Day; fail not to come, even should it rain halberds.”

“Yes, dear Sir.  For this I would leap the walls, and, in gratitude, would I be yours without mischief, and cause you no sorrow, at the price of my everlasting future.  Awaiting the happy moment, I will pray God for you with all my heart.”

And then she remained standing like a stone saint, moving not, until she could see the good citizen no longer, and he went away with lagging steps, turning from time to time further to gaze upon her.  And when he was far off, and out of her sight, she stayed on, until nightfall, lost in meditation, knowing not if she had dreamed that which had happened to her.  Then she went back to the house, where she was beaten for staying out, but felt not the blows.  The good silversmith could neither eat nor drink, but closed his workshop, possessed of this girl, thinking of nothing but this girl, seeing everywhere the girl; everything to him being to possess this girl.  Now when the morrow was come, he went with great apprehension towards the abbey to speak to the lord abbot.  On the road, however, he suddenly thought of putting himself under the protection of one of the king’s people, and with this idea returned to the court, which was then held in the town.  Being esteemed by all for his prudence, and loved for his little works and kindnesses, the king’s chamberlain—­for whom he had once made, for a present to a lady of