"Would you like a little milk?" replied she. "These early days of May
are so warm, and you are so far from the city."

In fact, the shy was cloudless and burned like a forge. This simple
offer, made without the hope of a return, the only gift in the power of
the poor girl, touched the heart of the goldsmith, and he wished that he
cold see her on a throne and all Paris at her feet.

"No, ma mie," replied he; "I am not thirsty--but I would that I could
free you."

"It cannot be; and I shall die the property of the abbey. For a long
time we have lived here, from father to son, from mother to daughter.
Like my poor ancestors, I shall pass my days upon this land, for the
abbot does not loose his prey."

"What!" cried the goldsmith, "has no gallant been tempted by your bright
eyes to buy your liberty, as I bought mine of the king?"

"Truly, it would cost too much. Therefore those I pleased at first sight
went at they came."

"And you never thought of fleeing to another country with a lover, on a
fleet courser?"

"O, yes. But, my lord, if I were taken I should lose my life, and my
lover, if he were a lord, his land. I am not worth such sacrifice. Then
the arms of the abbey are longer than my feet are swift. Besides, I live
here, in obedience to Heaven that has placed me here."