Astonished at the oddity of the appearance and conduct of the old monk, Brunhild and Warnachaire now followed him with their eyes, now looked at each other in silence during the short instants that Loysik recognized and contemplated the image of Victoria. More and more convinced that the monk was out of his mind, the Queen lost all patience, stamped with her foot on the floor and cried: "Duke, call in my pages; let them drive out of this room with their switches this crazy man who pretends to be the abbot of the monastery of Charolles, and who kneels before my antique medals." Brunhild was still issuing these orders when one of the pages entered by the door that connected with the large hall, and bending a knee said to her: "Glorious Queen, a messenger has just arrived from the army; he brings pressing despatches for seigneur Warnachaire." "That is of greater importance, duke. Receive the messenger and return quickly to inform me of the tidings that he brings;" and then, addressing the page and pointing to Loysik, who, with head erect and firm steps was now advancing toward her, she proceeded: "Fetch in some of your assistants and drive out that dotard with your switches; the loss of his senses saves him from a more severe punishment." Saying this, the Queen rose from her seat, and stepping towards her bedchamber, once more urged the mayor of the palace: "Warnachaire, return as soon as possible and let me know what tidings the messenger bears. You will read me the despatches." "I shall go, madam, and receive him instantly. But what of this crazy man? What is to be done with him?" "Leave that to my pages!" The mayor of the palace withdrew. Through the door, left open by him, and without stepping out of the apartment, the page called out to several of his companions who stood in waiting in the contiguous hall. Loysik, on his part, seeing that, without taking any more notice of him than of an insane man, the Queen was returning to her bedchamber, ran towards Brunhild, and holding before her a parchment scroll that he drew from his robe, said to her in a firm and collected voice: "I am not crazy. This charter signed by the late King Clotaire will prove to you that I am the superior of the monastery of Charolles, where your chamberlain and his soldiers are, at this hour, retained prisoners by my orders." "Loysik!" exclaimed one of the young pages who entered the apartment in response to the call of their companion. "Brother Loysik here?" "What! This monk!" cried Brunhild stupefied. "Is he Loysik, the abbot of the monastery of Charolles?" "Yes, glorious Queen. He is the venerable abbot." "How come you to know him?" "He was pointed out to me at the last slave market. The worthy abbot was buying slaves to set them free. I saw him again this morning crossing one of the courtyards of the palace in the company of Samuel and two young girls."