"It must be so," said Julyan sadly. "What would I become who am to proceed to-morrow to meet Armel by oath and out of friendship, were I to find him turned into a bird while I may be turned into a stag of the woods or an ox of the fields?" "Fear not, young man," said the stranger to Julyan, "the religion of Hesus is the only true religion; it teaches us that after death we are reclad in younger and handsomer bodies." "I pin my hopes on that!" said Stumpy. CHAPTER V. THE STORY OF SYOMARA. The storm of questions had spent itself and the thirst for fresh stories returned among the assembled family of Joel, whose head remarked with wonderment: "What a thing traveling is? How much one learns; but we must not lag behind our guest. Story for story. Proud Gallic woman for proud Gallic woman. Friend guest, ask Mamm' Margarid to tell you the beautiful story and deed of one of her own female ancestors, which happened about a hundred and thirty years ago when our fathers went as far as Asia to found a new Gaul, because you must know that few are the countries on earth that their soles have not trod upon." "After your wife's story," answered the stranger, "and seeing that you wish to speak of our own ancestors, I shall also speak of them ... and by Ritha Gaur!... never would the time be fitter. While we are here telling stories, you do not seem to know what is going on elsewhere in the land; you do not know that perhaps at this very moment--" "Why do you interrupt yourself?" asked Joel wondering at the suddenness with which his guest broke off in the middle of the sentence. "What is going on while we are here telling stories? What better can we do at the corner of our hearth during an autumn evening?" Instead of answering Joel, the stranger respectfully said to Mamm' Margarid: "I shall listen to the story of Joel's wife." "It is a very short and simple story," answered Margarid plying her distaff. "The story is as simple as the action of my ancestral grandmother. Her name was Syomara." "And in honor of her," said Guilhern breaking in upon his mother and proudly pointing the stranger to an eight year old child of surprising beauty, "in honor of our ancestral grandmother Syomara, who was as beautiful as she was brave, I have given her name to this little girl of mine." "This is indeed a most charming child," remarked the stranger struck by the lovely face of little Syomara. "I am sure she will have her grandmother's valor in the same degree that she is endowed with her beauty." Henory, the child's mother blushed with joy at these words and said smiling to Mamm' Margarid: "I dare not blame Guilhern for having interrupted you; it brought on the pretty compliment." "The compliment is as sweet to me as to you, my daughter," answered Mamm' Margarid; saying which she began her story: