Immediately the maid lowered her eyes. These words were uttered in such a way, in so grave a tone, so penetrating a manner, that the said Tiennette burst into tears.
“No, monseigneur, I should be the cause of a thousand unpleasantnesses, and of your misfortune. For a poor bondsmaid, the conversation has gone far enough.”
“Ho!” cried Anseau; “you do not know, my child, the man you are dealing with.”
The Touranian crossed himself, joined his hands, and said—
“I make a vow to Monsieur the Saint Eloi, under whose invocation are the silversmiths, to fashion two images of pure silver, with the best workmanship I am able to perform. One shall be a statue of Madame the Virgin, to this end, to thank her for the liberty of my dear wife; and the other for my said patron, if I am successful in my undertaking to liberate the bondswoman Tiennette here present, and for which I rely upon his assistance. Moreover, I swear by my eternal salvation, to persevere with courage in this affair, to spend therein all I process, and only to quit it with my life. God has heard me,” said he. “And you, little one,” he added, turning towards the maid.
“Ha! monseigneur, look! My cow is running about the fields,” cried she, sobbing at the good man’s knees. “I will love you all my life; but withdraw your vow.”
“Let us to look after the cow,” said the silversmith, raising her, without daring yet to kiss her, although the maid was well disposed to it.
“Yes,” said she, “for I shall be beaten.”
And behold now the silversmith, scampering after the cursed cow, who gave no heed to their amours; she was taken by the horns, and held in the grip of the Touranian, who for a trifle would have thrown her in the air, like a straw.
“Adieu, my sweet one! If you go into the town, come to my house, over against St Leu’s Church. I am called Master Anseau, and am silversmith to the King of France, at the sign of St. Eloi. Make me a promise to be in this field the next Lord’s-Day; fail not to come, even should it rain halberds.”