"Near Poitiers, at the convent of St. Saturnine.... My family and I, touched with pity for a young prince, a boy, who was kept confined in the monastery, wished to help him to escape; all was discovered, they meant to punish me in a shameful, infamous manner," Septimine said blushing; "and they decided to sell me and separate me from my father and mother.... It was at that moment that your son, a favorite of Charles, the Chief of the Franks, interceded in my behalf and took me under his protection--" "My son, say you, dear child?" "Yes, madam, the seigneur Berthoald." "You call him Berthoald?" "That is the name of the young Frankish chief who is locked up in that cavern--" "My son Amael with the name of Berthoald! My son a favorite of the Frankish chief!" cried Rosen-Aer struck with amazement. "My son, who was raised in horror for the conquerors of Gaul, those oppressors of our race! My son one of their favorites! No, no.... It is impossible!" "Live a hundred years, and never shall I forget what happened at the convent of St. Saturnine--the touching kindness of the seigneur Berthoald towards me, whom he had never seen before. Did he not obtain my liberty from Charles, and also the liberty of my father and mother? Was he not generous enough to give me gold to meet my family's wants?" "I am lost in the attempt to penetrate this mystery. The troop of warriors, that brought us slaves in their train, did indeed stop at the abbey of St. Saturnine," replied Rosen-Aer in great agony, and she added: "but if he whom you call Berthoald obtained your freedom from the chief of the Franks, how come you to be a slave here, my poor child?" "The seigneur Berthoald trusted the word of Charles, and Charles trusted the word of the abbot of the convent. But after the departure of the chief of the Franks and your son, the abbot, who had previously sold me to a Jew named Mordecai, kept his bargain with the Jew.... In vain did I beseech the warriors whom Charles left behind in possession of the monastery, and as a guard over the little prince, to stand by me. I was torn away from my family. The Jew kept the gold that your son had generously given me, and brought me to this country. He sold me to the intendant of this abbey that was donated by Charles to the seigneur Berthoald, as I learned at the convent of St. Saturnine." "This abbey was donated to my son!... He a companion in arms of these accursed Franks!... He a traitor! a renegade! Oh, if you speak truly, shame and perdition upon my son!" "A traitor! A renegade!... The seigneur Berthoald! The most generous of men! You judge your son too severely!" "Listen, poor child, and you will understand my sorrow.... After a great battle, delivered near Narbonne against the Arabs, I was taken by the warriors of Charles. The booty and slaves were divided by lot. I and my female fellow prisoners were told that we belonged to the chief Berthoald and his men."