The provostess (to adopt the language of the manuscripts) fell ill, sent for a lawyer, and dictated her will to him. Lying on a bed of sickness, which she was never to leave again, full of a living faith in Christ, she felt certain of going to her Saviour, and experienced an insurmountable repugnance to the performance over her grave of any of the superstitious ceremonies for which devout women have ordinarily such a strong liking. Accordingly, while the notary, pen in hand, was waiting the dictation of her last will, she said: 'I forbid all bell-ringing and chanting at my funeral, and no monks or priests shall be present with their tapers. I desire to be buried without pomp and without torches.' The lawyer was rather surprised, but he wrote down the words; and her husband, who remained near her and knew her faith, promised that her wishes should be kept sacred. When she died, the mortal remains of this pious woman were laid in the tomb of her father and grandfather, with no other accompaniment than the tears of all who had known her, and the prayers of the children of God who formed the little evangelical flock of Orleans. [Sidenote: THE PROVOST AND THE MONKS.] When the ceremony was over, the provost proceeded to the convent of the Franciscans, in whose cemetery the burial had taken place. He was a liberal man, and, though despising the monks, did not wish to do them wrong, even in appearance. The friars, already much irritated, did not understand what the magistrate wanted with them, and received him very coldly. 'As you were not called upon to do duty,' he told them, 'here are six gold crowns by way of compensation.' The monks, who had reckoned on the death of this lady as a great windfall, were by no means satisfied with the six gold pieces; and, even while taking them, looked sulkily at the widower, and swore to be revenged. Not long after this, the provost having determined upon cutting down a wood he possessed near Orleans, was giving directions to his workmen, when two monks, following the narrow lanes running through the forest, arrived at the spot where the owner and the woodmen were at work, boldly addressed the former, and demanded in the name of the convent permission to send their waggon once a day during the felling to lay up their store. 'What!' answered the provost, whom the avarice of the monks had always disgusted, 'a waggon a day! Send thirty, my reverend fathers, but (of course) with ready money. All that I want, I assure you, is good speed and good money.'[650]