THE SPECTRE OF WISIGARDE.
While her lord and master, Neroweg, together with his leudes, was drinking himself to the point of intoxication in the banquet hall, Godegisele, the count's fifth wife, sat in her chamber amidst her female slaves and diligently plied her distaff by the light of a copper lamp. Although still young, Godegisele was of delicate health and frail. Her complexion was waxen; her long pale-blonde hair was braided in two strands and fell from under her obbon—the name given by the Franks to a sort of skull-cap woven of gold and silver thread—over her shoulders, that were bare like her arms. The advanced stage of pregnancy in which she was imparted to her sweet sad features an expression of suffering. Godegisele wore the costume of the Frankish women of high condition—a long decolleté robe with open and flowing sleeves, and held by a scarf around her now unshapely waist. Her arms were ornamented with gold bracelets, studded with precious stones, while a sea-eel necklace that derived its name from the fish, which, when captured, twists itself around the arm in such a manner that its head touches the tip of its tail—wound its golden, ruby-dotted coil around her neck. One thing there was about Godegisele's robe that rendered it incongruous. Its wearer was frail, slender and short, but the rich robe seemed to have been made for a large and robust woman. About a score of young wretchedly clad female slaves sat around Godegisele upon the leaves that the floor was strewn with, while the count's wife occupied an armed stool over which a silver embroidered carpet was thrown. Several of the girl slaves were handsome. Some worked at their distaffs like their mistress, others were engaged at their needles; occasionally they exchanged a few words in a low voice and in the Gallic tongue, which their mistress, being herself of Frankish extraction, understood poorly. One of them, named Morise, a young and handsome girl with raven-black hair who was sold to a noble Frank when ten years of age, spoke the language of the conquerors fluently, on account of which Godegisele conversed with her in preference. At this moment the count's wife dropped her distaff which she held across her knees and said to the slave in a tremulous voice:
"And so, Morise, you saw her assassinated?"
"Yes, madam, I witnessed the sad scene. On that day she wore that same green robe with silver flowers that you have on, she also had on the handsome necklace and bracelets that I see on your arms and neck."
Godegisele shuddered and could not withhold a fearful glance from her bracelets and robe, the latter of which was twice too large for her.
"And—for what reason did he kill her, Morise? What was it that angered him?"
"He had drunk more than usual on that evening—he entered here, where we now are, unsteady of foot. It was winter—there was a fire in the hearth. His wife Wisigarde sat at a corner of the chimney. The seigneur count then had among us a washerwoman, named Martine, for his favorite. He said to Martine: 'Come, come, confounded wench—let's to bed—and you, Wisigarde,' he added addressing his wife, 'take a lamp and light us.' "
"That, certainly, was a great shame upon Wisigarde."
"All the more, madam, seeing she was of a proud temper and impetuous nature. She often whipped and bit us, and she quarrelled a good deal with the seigneur count."