"An ancestor of that Neroweg was called the Terrible Eagle in Germany--the meeting is odd," thought the hermit to himself. "It does seem that our two hostile families, the one Frank the other Gaul, having crossed each other's path in the past, must cross it again--and are to recross it, perhaps, again and again through the centuries to come--" "Count, your terror proves to me that your soul is not at ease--I mistrust that your confession was not complete." "Yes, yes; I confessed everything!" "I hope to God it be so, for the salvation of your soul. But cheer up! Let us talk of the hunt. Oh! By the way of the hunt, I have a complaint against you and your forester slaves. The other day they pursued three stags into the very heart of the Church's forest--in that part of the wood that is separated from the rest of your domains by the river." "If my forester slaves pursued any stag into your forest, I shall allow yours to pursue one into mine; our woods are separated only by a narrow road." "A better boundary would be the river itself." "In that case I would have to abandon to you fully a thousand acres of woodland, which lie on this side of the stream." "Do you place much store by that little corner of your forest? The trees do not thrive very well at that spot." "Not as poorly as you would make out. There are among them oak trees more than twenty feet around; besides, it is that portion of my domains that game seems to like best." "You boast of the beauty of your trees; it is your right; but your domains would have a better and safer boundary if you took the river, and if you consented to yield to the Church that corner of a thousand acres." "What makes you speak of my woods? I have no need of any further absolution from you--" "No--you killed one of your wives, one of your concubines and your brother Ursio--you have expiated those crimes by endowing the Church--you have received absolution. Nevertheless, coming to think of it, there is one thing that both of us have overlooked--and it is of capital importance--" "What is it, father?" "Your fourth wife, Wisigarde, died a violent death at your hands. She did not receive priestly assistance at her death--her soul is in pain. She might come to torment you during the night in the shape of some frightful phantom until you will have drawn her poor soul from purgatory--" "How can I do that?" "Through the holy mass and through the prayers of a priest of the Lord." "Well, father, I wish you to make those prayers for the soul of the departed." "I shall grant your request. For twenty years prayers shall be recited at the altar for the repose of the soul of Wisigarde, but only under condition that you pass over to me the corner of your woods that is separated from your domains by the stream--" "Give again to your Church! Ever give! Ever!" "Would you prefer to be tormented by nocturnal phantoms?" The Frank looked at the bishop with an angry and defiant eye: