"But repelling her husband with an imperious gesture, Albrege answered him proudly: 'Certain of my honor, I did not fear the trial.... I felt at ease on my child's fate. The gods could not punish an innocent woman with the loss of her child.... But ... a woman suspected is a woman outraged.... I shall keep my child. You never more shall see us, nor him, nor me.... You have doubted your wife's honor!'"
"The child was just then brought in triumph. Its mother threw herself upon it, like a lioness upon her whelp; pressed it closely to her heart; so calm and peaceful as she had been until then, so violent was she now with the caresses that she showered upon the baby, with whom she now fled away."
"O, that was a true daughter of Gaul!" said Guilhern's wife. "A woman suspected is a woman outraged. Those are proud words.... I like to hear them!"
"But," asked Joel, "is that trial one of the customs of the Gauls along the Rhine?"
"Yes," answered the stranger; "the husband who suspects his wife of having dishonored his bed, places the baby upon a buckler and exposes it to the current of the river. If the child remains afloat, the wife's innocence is proved; if it sinks under the waves, the mother's crime is considered established."
"And how was that brave wife clad, friend guest?" asked Henory. "Did she wear a tunic like ours?"
"No," answered the stranger; "the tunics in that region are very short and of two colors. The corsage is generally blue, the skirt red. The latter is often embroidered with gold and silver thread."
"And their head-gear?" asked one of the young girls. "Are they white and cut square like our own?"
"No; they are black and bell-shaped, and they are also embroidered in gold and silver."
"And the bucklers?" queried Guilhern. "Are they like ours?"