in the year to see the son for whom he had sacrificed everything; how,
not wishing to live with a murderer, she was about to quit his house,
leaving all her property behind her; because, if the honour of the
Bastarnays was stained, it was not she who had brought the shame
about; because in this calamity she had arranged matters as best she
could; finally, she added a vow to go over mountain and valley, she
and her son, until all was expiated, for she knew how to expiate all.

Having with noble mien and a pale face uttered these beautiful words,
she took her child by the hand and went out in great mourning, more
magnificently beautiful than was Mademoiselle Hagar on her departure
from the residence of the patriarch Abraham, and so proudly, that all
the servants and retainers fell on their knees as she passed along,
imploring her with joined hands, like Notre Dame de la Riche. It was
pitiful to see the Sieur de Bastarnay following her, ashamed, weeping,
confessing himself to blame, and downcast and despairing, like a man
being led to the gallows, there to be turned off.

And Bertha turned a deaf ear to everything. The desolation was so
great that she found the drawbridge lowered, and hastened to quit the
castle, fearing that it might be suddenly raised again; but no one had
the right or the heart to do it. She sat down on the curb of the moat,
in view of the whole castle, who begged her, with tears, to stay. The
poor sire was standing with his hand upon the chain of the portcullis,
as silent as the stone saints carved above the door. He saw Bertha
order her son to shake the dust from his shoes at the end of the
bridge, in order to have nothing belonging to Bastarnay about him; and
she did likewise. Then, indicating the sire to her son with her
finger, she spoke to him as follows--