“My dear Tiennette,” cried the jeweller, “it is finished—­I will be a bondsman, and thou wilt live to make my happiness as long as my days.  In thy company, the hardest chains will weigh but lightly, and little shall I reck the want of gold, when all my riches are in thy heart, and my only pleasure in thy sweet body.  I place myself in the hands of St. Eloi, will deign in this misery to look upon us with pitying eyes, and guard us from all evils.  Now I shall go hence to a scrivener to have the deeds and contracts drawn up.  At least, dear flower of my days, thou shalt be gorgeously attired, well housed, and served like a queen during thy lifetime, since the lord abbot leaves me the earnings of my profession.”

Tiennette, crying and laughing, tried to put off her good fortune and wished to die, rather than reduce to slavery a free man; but the good Anseau whispered such soft words to her, and threatened so firmly to follow her to the tomb, that she agreed to the said marriage, thinking that she could always free herself after having tasted the pleasures of love.

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!