he projected a thousand schemes, which all evaporated into air.  But, after many lamentations, he thought he would carry off the girl to some secure place, whence nothing could draw him, and made his preparations in consequence, thinking that, once out of the kingdom, his friends or the sovereign could manage the monks and bring them to reason.  The good man reckoned without his host, for, on going to the meadow, he missed Tiennette, and learned that she was kept in the abbey so rigorously, that, to gain possession of her, he would have to besiege the monastery.  Then master Anseau rent the air with complaints and lamentations, and, throughout Paris, the citizens and housewives spoke of nothing but this adventure, the noise of which was such, that the king, meeting the old abbot at court, asked him why, in this juncture, he did not yield to the great love of his goldsmith, and practise a little Christian charity.

“Because, my lord,” replied the priest, “all rights are linked together, like the part of a suit of armor, and if one fail, the whole falls to pieces.  If this girl were taken from us, against our will, and the usage were not observed, soon your subjects would deprive you of your crown, and great seditions would arise in all parts, to the end of abolishing the tithes and taxes which press so heavily upon the people.”

The king was silenced.  Every one was anxious to learn the end of this adventure.  So great was the curiosity, that several lords wagered that the goldsmith would abandon his suit, while the ladies took the opposite side.  The goldsmith having complained with tears to the queen that the monks had deprived him of the sight of his beloved, she thought it detestable and oppressive.  Whereupon, pursuant to her command, the goldsmith was allowed to go daily to the parlor of the abbey, where he saw Tiennette; but always in the company of an aged monk, and attired in true magnificence, like a lady.  It was with great difficulty that he persuaded her to accept the sacrifice he was compelled to make of his liberty, but she finally consented.

When the city was made acquainted with the submission of the goldsmith, who, for the love of his lady, abandoned his fortune and his liberty, every one was anxious to see him.  The ladies of the court encumbered themselves with jewels they did not need, to make a pretext for talking with him.  But if some of them approached Tiennette in beauty, none possessed her heart.  At last, at the approach of the hour of servitude and love, Anseau melted all his gold into a royal crown, which he inlaid with all his pearls and diamonds; then coming secretly to the queen, he gave it into her hands, saying: 

“My lady, I know not in whose hands to trust my faith and fortune but yours.  To-morrow everything found in my house will become the property of those accursed monks, who have no pity on me.  Deign, then, to take care of this.  It is a poor return for the pleasure I enjoyed by your means, of seeing her I love, since no treasure is worth one of her glances.  I know not what will become of me—­but if, one day, my children become free, I have a faith in your generosity as a woman and a queen.”