"And what is to become of the present holders of the abbey of Meriadek?"
"Alack! what we would have become. The will of God be done. Charity begins at home."
"Yes, provided the will of God turn in your favor. Is the abbey rich?"
"Seigneur, with the aid of God, we could live there humbly and in seclusion and prayer and with a little privation."
"Monk, no false pretences! Is that abbey worth more or is it worth less than this one? I wish to know whether it is a cow or a goat I am giving away. If you deceive me, I may some day go back upon my gift. Moreover, you just said you had an exact inventory of the abbey's havings. Come, speak up, you old dotard!"
"Yes, seigneur," answered the abbot biting his lips and proceeding to look in a drawer among several rolls of parchment for the inventory of the abbey of Meriadek. "Here," said he, producing the document, "you will see from this that the revenues of Meriadek are worth about as much as those that we draw here.... We may even, by retrenching upon our good works, by reducing our charities, contribute two hundred gold sous annually to your treasury."
"You say that rather late," replied Charles turning the leaves of the inventory which did, indeed, accurately set forth the extent and limits of the domain of Meriadek. "Have you parchments to write on? I wish to make the bequest in due form."
"Yes, seigneur," cried the monk in great glee, running to his trunk and believing himself in full possession of the abbey of Meriadek. "Here is a roll of parchment, gracious seigneur. Be kind enough to dictate the terms of the bequest ... unless you prefer to adopt the usual formula."
Saying this the abbot was about to sit down and take pen in hand, when, pushing him away from the table, Charles said: "Monk, I am not like the do-nothing and ignorant kings; I know how to write; and I like to transact my business myself."
Consulting from time to time the parchments that the abbot had handed to him, and from time to time casting a look upon Berthoald, who had remained steeped in thought and a stranger to what was going on near him, Charles began to write. A few steps from the table, and following the hand of Charles with greedy eyes, the monk was congratulating himself upon his having thought of the abbey of Meriadek, and he no doubt was computing the advantage that would accrue to himself by the exchange. Addressing the chief of the Franks, who was silently writing, the monk said: "Mighty seigneur, my names are Bonaventure Clement, an unworthy priest and monk of the order of St. Benoit."