river-side, and pass long hours in the dreamy reveries of an artist.

One day as he was strolling, in this tender frame of mind, along the
left bank of the Seine, he came to the meadow afterwards called the Pre
aux Clercs, which was then in the domain of the Abbey of St. Germain,
and not in that of the University. There, finding himself in the open
fields, he encountered a poor girl, who addressed him with the simple
salutation:--"God save you, my lord!"

The musical intonation of her voice, chiming in with the melodious
images that then filled the goldsmith's busy brain, impressed him so
pleasantly that he turned, and saw that the damsel was holding a cow by
a tether, while it was browsing the rank grass that grew upon the
borders of a ditch.

"My child," said he, "how is it that you are pasturing your cow on the
Sabbath? Know you not that it is forbidden, and that you are in danger
of imprisonment?"

"My lord," replied the girl, casting down her eyes, "I have nothing to
fear, because I belong to the abbey. My lord abbot has given us license
to feed our cow here after sunset."

"Then you love your cow better than the safety of your soul," said the
goldsmith.

"Of a truth, my lord, the animal furnishes half our subsistence."

"I marvel," said the good goldsmith, "to see you thus poorly clad and
barefoot on the Sabbath. Thou art fair to look upon, and thou must needs