The Branding Needle, or The Monastery of Charolles

, lie encamped. The King's tent has been set up under a clump of trees in the middle of the village. The sun has only just risen. Not far from the royal shelter stands a farmhouse. It is larger th

two brothers; Merovee's head, the youngest of the three, lies on Sigebert's breast. Corbe, the second, has his arm around his eldest brother's neck. The faces of the little princes, as they lie soundly asleep, are half hidden by their long hair, the symbol of the royal family. They seem to lie peacefully, almost happily. Especially the face of the eldest has an expression of angelic serenity. As the sun mounted higher and higher above the horizon, it presently darted its luminous and warm rays upon the group of sleeping children. Awakened by the heat and the brilliancy of the light, Sigebert passed his white wan hands over his large and stil

want my milk-my c

hed in tears and his lips palpitating; "brother-wake

woke up completely, an

we were in

any longer, brothe

at? Are we no long

dmother, where is she? And where is our brother Childebe

orbe angrily. "I heard everybody say so around us-the troops fled without striking a

smothered voice. "You will wake up Merovee-poor little fellow

weeping, Sigeber

the hands of our gr

h another army and set us free; she wi

am neither hung

eat. Grandmother was right; war is tiresome and uncomfortable, but on

perhaps he also thinks, as you did,

up-I do not want him to slee

an not have a

ng the door-they are brin

of hides, and one of these carried a roll of rope. Clotaire II and Warnachaire accompanied the two

re in a low voice, "will you not wai

hether he will

ible that he should have failed to overtake the Queen at the foot of the Jura mountains, into which

blow will be of little moment to Brunhild; why delay it

stunned and frightened, especially at the sinister faces of the two men clad in hide jackets. The two cowering children held each other in a close embrace, trembling and without uttering a word. At a second sign from Clotaire II, one of the two men, he who carried the coil of rope, unwound it and st

slaves;

meantime his assistant had come within reach of the children, who, livid and dumb with terror, trembled so convulsively th

aller, the smaller,

d Clotaire II in a hollow imperi

into the corner in which the pallet was placed

thered and plaintive voice. "Mer

more anger than fear. "If you do any harm to

turning his little head, with his eyes still swollen with sleep, hither and thither, he looked alternately from the four new arrivals to his brothers, as if asking what it all meant. The King having said "Begin with the

ing to be slaves. Send us out to herd your sheep far away from here; we shall obey you in all thing

e I, Clotaire II remained unmov

rendered him unable to keep upon his feet. He fell upon his knees before the slaughterer. The latter took hold of the child by its long hair and firmly bending its neck back agains

ng our late journey your 'dear boy,'

ransitory, the long knife quickly plowed its way through the child's throat and, operated as a saw, cut down until it struck the vertebrae of the neck. Two jets of purple blood spurted from the wide-gaping wound and fell in opposite directions like a ruddy dew on a fold of the robe of Fredegonde's son and upon the iron gre

is brother, but with one so young no thought of death could enter his head. His brother Corbe, however, a boy of violent and vindictive character, did not emulate the gentle resignation

so convulsively in his bonds that the executioner was hardly able to hold him. "Oh!" he screamed, grinding his teeth and panting for breath in the struggle; "

finger at Corbe: "Warnachaire, it would have been impolitic to leave this hateful

hild's chest in order to pin him to the ground, while the executioner himself wound around his wrist the long hair of the young prince, and was thus able to draw the head towards himself so as t

, or whether due to the thoughtlessness of infancy, when he saw the executioner's assistant approach him, he rose, walked towar

resist-I shall be as gentle a

little blonde head back and himself

h dust burst into the house crying i

ueen Brunhild prisoner. After two days of the hottest chase, he s

Merovee in their hands: "Do not kill that child-let him be taken to my tent. Wait for my orders. You do not know, oh, great Queen, what glory awaits you!" added Clotaire II with an expression of diabolic ferocity. And a