When the submission of the Touranian became known in the town, and that for his sweetheart he yielded up his wealth and his liberty, everyone wished to see him.  The ladies of the court encumbered themselves with jewels, in order to speak with him, and there fell upon him as from the clouds women enough to make up for the time he had been without them; but if any of them approached Tiennette in beauty, none had her heart.  To be brief, when the hour of slavery and love was at hand, Anseau remolded all of his gold into a royal crown, in which he fixed all his pearls and diamonds, and went secretly to the queen, and gave it to her, saying, “Madame, I know not how to dispose of my fortune, which you here behold.  Tomorrow everything that is found in my house will be the property of the cursed monks, who have had no pity on me.  Then deign, madame, to accept this.  It is a slight return for the joy which, through you, I have experienced in seeing her I love; for no sum of money is worth one of her glances.  I do not know what will become of me, but if one day my children are delivered, I rely upon your queenly generosity.”

“Well said, good man,” cried the king.  “The abbey will one day need my aid and I will not lose the remembrance of this.”

There was a vast crowd at the abbey for the nuptials of Tiennette, to whom the queen presented the bridal dress, and to whom the king granted a licence to wear every day golden rings in her ears.  When the charming pair came from the abbey to the house of Anseau (now serf) over against St. Leu, there were torches at the windows to see them pass, and a double line in the streets, as though it were a royal entry.  The poor husband had made himself a collar of gold, which he wore on his left arm in token of his belonging to the abbey of St. Germain.  But in spite of his servitude the people cried out, “Noel!  Noel!” as to a new crowned king.  And the good man bowed to them gracefully, happy as a lover, and joyful at the homage which every one rendered to the grace and modesty of Tiennette.  Then the good Touranian found green boughs and violets in crowns in his honour; and the principal inhabitants of the quarter were all there, who as a great honour, played music to him, and cried to him, “You will always be a noble man in spite of the abbey.”  You may be sure that the happy pair indulged an amorous conflict to their hearts’ content; that the good man’s blows were vigorous; and that his sweetheart, like a good country maiden, was of a nature to return them.  Thus they lived together a whole month, happy as the doves, who in springtime build their nest twig by twig.  Tiennette was delighted with the beautiful house and the customers, who came and went away astonished at her.  This month of flowers past, there came one day, with great pomp, the good old Abbot Hugon, their lord and master, who entered the house, which then belonged not the jeweller but to the Chapter, and said to the two spouses:—­