Having said this, the goldsmith, enraged at the calmness of the abbot, who seemed resolved to secure the good man’s doubloons to the abbey, dealt such a blow with his fist on an oaken chair, it flew in pieces as if struck by a sledge-hammer.

“See, my lord, what a serf you will have, and how of an artificer of divine things you will make a draught-horse.”

“My son,” replied the abbot, calmly, “you have wrongfully broken mine oaken chair and lightly judged my heart.  This girl belongs to the abbey, and not to me.  I am the faithful administrator of the rights and usages of this glorious monastery.  Although I may, indeed, liberate this girl and her heirs, I owe an account to God and to the abbey.  Now, since there has been here an altar, serfs and monks, id est, from time immemorial, never has there been an instance of a burgess becoming the property of the abbey by marriage with a serf.  Hence, need there is of exercising this right, that it may not be lost, effete and obsolete, and fall into desuetude, the which would occasion troubles manifold.  And this is of greater advantage for the state and for the abbey than your boxes, however beautiful they may be, seeing that we have a fund which will enable us to purchase jewels and bravery, and that no money can establish customs and laws.  I appeal to my lord, the king’s chamberlain, who is witness of the pains infinite our sovereign taketh each day to do battle for the establishment of his ordinances.”

“This is to shut my mouth,” said the chamberlain.

The goldsmith, who was no great clerk, remained silent and pensive.  Hereupon came Tiennette, clad in glorious apparel, wearing a robe of white wool, with her hair tastefully dressed, and, withal, so royally beautiful, that the goldsmith was petrified with ecstasy, and the chamberlain confessed that he had never seen so perfect a creature.  Then, thinking that there was too great danger to the goldsmith in this spectacle, he carried him off to the city, and begged him to think no more of the affair, since the abbey would never yield so beautiful a prize.

In fact, the chapter signified to the poor lover that, if he married this girl, he must resolve to abandon his property and house to the abbey, and to acknowledge himself a serf; and that then, by special grace, the abbey would allow him to remain in his house, on condition of his furnishing an inventory of his goods, of his paying a tribute every year, and coming annually, for a fortnight, to lodge in a burg appertaining to the domain, in order to make act of serfdom.  The goldsmith, to whom every one spoke of the obstinacy of the monks, saw plainly that the abbey would adhere inflexibly to this sentence, and was driven to the verge of despair.  At one time he thought of setting fire to the four corners of the monastery,—­at another, he proposed to inveigle the abbot into some place where he might torment him till he signed the manumission papers of Tiennette,—­in fine,