alone with the monk, who explained the object of his mission. He
descanted upon the power of the emperor Louis, recounted his complaints,
and warned the Briton, kindly and in a private capacity, of the danger
of his situation, a danger so much the greater in that he and his people
would meet with the less consideration, seeing that they kept up the
religion of their pagan forefathers. Morvan gave attentive ear to this
sermon, with his eyes fixed on the ground, and his foot tapping it from
time to time. Ditcar thought he had succeeded; but an incident
supervened. It was the hour when Morvan's wife was accustomed to come
and look for him ere they retired to the nuptial couch. She appeared,
eager to know who the stranger was, what he had come for, what he had
said, what answer he had received. She preluded her questions with
oglings and caresses; she kissed the knees, the hands, the beard, and
the face of the King, testifying her desire to be alone with him. "O
King and glory of the mighty Britons, dear spouse of mine! what tidings
bringeth this stranger? Is it peace, or is it war?"

"This stranger," answered Morvan, with a smile, "is an envoy of the
Franks; but bring he peace or bring he war is the affair of men alone;
as for thee, content thee with thy woman's duties." Thereupon Ditcar,
perceiving that he was countered, said to Morvan: "Sir King, 'tis time
that I return; tell me what answer I am to take back to my sovereign."

"Leave me this night to take thought thereon," replied the Breton chief,
with a wavering air. When the morning came, Ditcar presented himself
once more to Morvan, whom he found up, but still half drunk and full of
very different sentiments from those of the night before. It required
some effort, stupefied and tottering as he was with the effects of wine
and the pleasures of the night, to say to Ditcar: "Go back to thy King,
and tell him from me that my land was never his, and that I owe him