In all haste they went to offer aid to their homeless brothers; and there they met the pious English monk, Stephen Harding, friend of St. Robert, and St. Bernard's master, who had come to offer the shelter of Citeaux. Falling at Stephen's feet, and kissing his hand, Albéric begged him to take into his order himself, his companions, and their monastery. Stephen willingly consented. He gave to Albéric and his companions the white robe of Citeaux, and soon after traced with his own hand upon the soil of Labussière the plan of a new monastic church. Stone by stone the building grew, until, on the 10th September, 1172, in the presence of a vast assemblage, before all the clergy and nobles of Burgundy, the new church was consecrated by Saint Pierre, Archbishop of Tarentaise, who, by prayer and the laying on of hands, wrought so many miracles of healing that day, that the people, witnessing these prodigies, shouted, till the three valleys were echoing with their cries of "Noel, Noel!" The Abbey of Labussière was well founded at last. * * * * * A great part of the Abbey buildings still remain, restored almost beyond recognition, and transformed into a magnificent mansion, now in the occupation of a family whose name I have forgotten. To our great regret we were unable to see the house, as the gardien had vanished, taking the keys with him; so we had to content ourselves with glimpses of glorious Gothic arcades, Romanesque staircases, and a west front, apparently of the fifteenth century, with a flamboyant door. But much of the building may be entirely new, for all I know. It was late in the afternoon that we rode into Labussière, and as we had to get on to Bligny that night, very little time was left in which to do more than explore the church, a thoroughly good sample of Cistercian severity, of the eleventh or twelfth century, with a square apse. It has some fine tombs, and Gothic monumental slabs. Dining that night in the "Cheval Blanc" at Bligny, where the host served to us, at half an hour's notice, a dinner that the Carlton could not have bettered, for hungry men, we agreed that it would not be easy to find a more charming _pays_ than the valley of the Ouche, in which to pass a lazy fortnight, tracing out some of its hundred legends, and steeping oneself in its romantic past.