Gabriel ˇ and ˇ the Hour ˇ Book

Roses of St. Elizabeth Series

EvaleenˇSteinˇ

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK

Roses of St. Elizabeth Series

 Each 1 vol. , small quarto, illustrated and decorated in colour. $1. 00

 The Roses of Saint Elizabeth BY JANE SCOTT WOODRUFF

 Gabriel and the Hour Book BY EVALEEN STEIN

 The Enchanted Automobile _Translated from the French by_ MARY J. SAFFORD

 Pussy-Cat Town BY MARION AMES TAGGART

 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY New England Building BOSTON, MASS. 

[Illustration: _Gabriel_]

Roses of St. Elizabeth Series

Gabriel and the Hour Book

BY Evaleen Stein

_ILLUSTRATED IN COLOURS BY_

Adelaide Everhart

 L. C. Page & Company Boston Mcmvi

 _Copyright, 1906, by L. C. PAGE & COMPANY (Incorporated)_

 _All rights reserved_

 _First Impression, July, 1906_

 _COLONIAL PRESS_

 _Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. Boston, U. S. A. _

TO

=My friend=

CAROLINE H. GRIFFITHS

CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. The Little Colour Grinder 1

 II. Brother Stephen's Inspiration 19

 III. Gabriel Interviews the Abbot 35

 IV. The Hour Book 49

 V. The Count's Tax 65

 VI. Gabriel's Prayer 74

 VII. The Book Goes to Lady Anne 89

 VIII. Lady Anne Writes to the King 99

 IX. The King's Messenger 116

 X. Gabriel's Christmas 136

 XI. The King's Illuminator 162

[Illustration]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 Gabriel _Frontispiece_

 "He saw the Abbot walking up and down" 38

 "Dreaming of all the beautiful things he meant to paint" 59

 "Taking down the book . . . He unwrapped and unclasped it" 95

 "Began slowly to turn over the pages" 105

 "He passed a little peasant boy" 142

Gabriel and the Hour Book

CHAPTER I. 

THE LITTLE COLOUR GRINDER

IT was a bright morning of early April, many hundred years ago; andthrough all the fields and meadows of Normandy the violets andcuckoo-buds were just beginning to peep through the tender green of theyoung grass. The rows of tall poplar-trees that everywhere, instead offences, served to mark off the farms of the country folk, waved in thespring wind like great, pale green plumes; and among their branches theearliest robins and field-fares were gaily singing as a little boystepped out from a small thatched cottage standing among the fields, andtook his way along the highroad. 

That Gabriel Viaud was a peasant lad, any one could have told from theblouse of blue homespun, and the wooden shoes which he wore; and that hefelt the gladness of the April time could easily be known by the happylittle song he began to sing to himself, and by the eager delight withwhich he now and then stooped to pluck a blue violet or to gather ahandful of golden cuckoo-buds. 

A mile or two behind him, and hidden by a bend in the road, lay thelittle village of St. Martin-de-Bouchage; while in the soft bluedistance ahead of him rose the gray walls of St. Martin's Abbey, whitherhe was going. 

Indeed, for almost a year now the little boy had been trudging every dayto the Abbey, where he earned a small sum by waiting upon the goodbrothers who dwelt there, and who made the beautiful painted books forwhich the Abbey had become famous. Gabriel could grind and mix theircolours for them, and prepare the parchment on which they did theirwriting, and could do many other little things that helped them in theirwork. 

The lad enjoyed his tasks at the Abbey, and, above all, delighted inseeing the beautiful things at which the brothers were always busy; yet, as he now drew near the gateway, he could not help but give a littlesigh, for it was so bright and sunny out-of-doors. He smiled, though, ashe looked at the gay bunches of blossoms with which he had quite filledhis hands, and felt that at least he was taking a bit of the April inwith him, as he crossed the threshold and entered a large room. 

"Good morrow, Gabriel, " called out several voices as he came in, for thelad was a general favourite with the brothers; and Gabriel, respectfullytaking off his blue peasant cap, gave a pleasant "good morrow" to each. 

The room in which he stood had plain stone walls and a floor of pavedstone, and little furniture, except a number of solidly made benches andtables. These were placed beneath a row of high windows, and the tableswere covered with writing and painting materials and pieces ofparchment; for the brotherhood of St. Martin's was very industrious. 

In those days, --it was four hundred years ago, --printed books were veryfew, and almost unknown to most people; for printing-presses had beeninvented only a few years, and so by far the greater number of books inthe world were still made by the patient labour of skilful hands; thework usually being done by the monks, of whom there were very many atthat time. 

These monks, or brothers, as they were often called, lived inmonasteries and abbeys, and were men who banded themselves together inbrotherhoods, taking solemn vows never to have homes of their own or tomingle in the daily life of others, but to devote their lives toreligion; for they believed that they could serve God better by thusshutting themselves off from the world. 

And so it came about that the brothers, having more time and morelearning than most other people of those days, made it their chief workto preserve and multiply all the books that were worth keeping. Thesethey wrote out on parchment (for paper was very scarce so long ago), andthen ornamented the pages with such beautiful painted borders of flowersand birds and saints and angels, and such lovely initial letters, all inbright colours and gold, that to this day large numbers of the beautifulbooks made by the monks are still kept among the choicest treasures ofthe museums and great libraries of the world. 

And few of all those wonderful old illuminations (for so the paintedornaments were called) were lovelier than the work of the brotherhood ofSt. Martin's. Gabriel felt very proud even to grind the colours forthem. But as he passed over to one of the tables and began to make readyhis paint mortar, the monk who had charge of the writing-room called tohim, saying:

"Gabriel, do not get out thy work here, for the Abbot hath just orderedthat some one must help Brother Stephen, who is alone in the oldchapter-house. He hath a special book to make, and his colour-grinder isfallen ill; so go thou at once and take Jacques's place. "

So Gabriel left the writing-room and passed down the long corridor thatled to the chapter-house. This was a room the brothers had kept foryears as a meeting-place, when they and the Abbot, who governed themall, wished to talk over the affairs of the Abbey; but as it had at lastgrown too small for them, they had built a new and larger one; and sothe old chapter-house was seldom used any more. 

Gabriel knew this, and he wondered much why Brother Stephen chose towork there rather than in the regular writing-room with the others. Hesupposed, however, that, for some reason of his own, Brother Stephenpreferred to be alone. 

He did not know that the monk, at that moment, was sitting moodily byhis work-table, his eyes staring aimlessly ahead of him, and his handsdropped idly in his lap. For Brother Stephen was feeling very cross andunhappy and out of sorts with all the world. And this was the reason:poor Brother Stephen had entered the Abbey when a lad scarcely olderthan Gabriel. He had come of good family, but had been left an orphanwith no one to care for him, and for want of other home had been sent tothe Abbey, to be trained for the brotherhood; for in those days therewere few places where fatherless and motherless children could be takencare of. 

As little Jean (for this was his name before he joined the monks, whenone's own name was always changed) grew up, he took the solemn vowswhich bound him to the rules of the brotherhood without realizing whatit all would mean to him; for Brother Stephen was a born artist; and, byand by, he began to feel that while life in the Abbey was well for mostof the brothers, for him it was not well. He wanted to be free to wanderabout the world; to paint pictures of many things; and to go from cityto city, and see and study the work of the world's great artists. 

It is true he spent the greater part of his time in the Abbey working onthe illuminated books, and this he loved; yet it did not wholly satisfyhim. He longed to paint other things, and, above all, his artist naturelonged for freedom from all the little rules of daily life thatgoverned the days of the brotherhood. 

Brother Stephen had brooded much over this desire for freedom, and onlythe day before had sought out the Abbot of St. Martin's and asked to bereleased from the vows of obedience which he had taken years before, butwhich now he found so hard to live up to. But, to his greatdisappointment, the Abbot had refused to grant his request. 

The Abbot had several reasons for this refusal; one of them was that hehimself dearly loved all the little daily ceremonies of the Abbey, andhe could not understand why any one who had once lived there couldprefer a life in the world. He really thought it was for BrotherStephen's own good that he should stay in the brotherhood. 

And then, too, perhaps there was another reason less to the Abbot'scredit; and this reason was that of all the beautiful illuminated booksfor which the Abbey of St. Martin's had become so famous, none werequite so exquisitely done as those made by Brother Stephen. So perhapsthe Abbot did not wish to lose so skilful an artist from the work-roomof the Abbey, and especially at this particular time. For just beforeBrother Stephen had had his talk with the Abbot, a messenger from thecity of Paris had come to the Abbey, bearing an order from the king, Louis XII. , who reigned over France, and Normandy also, which was a partof France. 

Now the following winter, the king was to wed the Lady Anne of Bretagne;and as Lady Anne was a great admirer and collector of beautiful paintedbooks, the king thought no gift would please his bride quite so much asa piece of fine illumination; and he decided that it should be an hourbook. These books were so called because in them were written differentparts of the Bible, intended to be read at certain hours of the day; formost people at that time were very devout, and the great ladiesespecially were very fond of having their hour books made as beautifulas possible. 

As King Louis thought over the best places where he might have hisbride's gift painted, at last he made up his mind to send to the monksof St. Martin's. He commanded that the hour book be done in the mostbeautiful style, and that it must be finished by the following December. 

The Abbot was delighted with the honour the king had shown the Abbey insending this order; and he determined that Brother Stephen should stayand make the entire book, as no one else wrote so evenly, or made quitesuch lovely initials and borders as did he. 

When the Abbot told this to Brother Stephen, however, it was a pitythat he did so in such a cold and haughty way that altogether BrotherStephen's anger was aroused, for he had a rather unruly temper; and so, smarting under the disappointment of not receiving his liberty, andfeeling that the book for Lady Anne was one cause of this, he had spokenangrily and disrespectfully to the Abbot, and refused point-blank totouch the king's order. 

At this the Abbot in his turn became angry, and declared that BrotherStephen should be compelled to paint the hour book whether he wished toor not; that he must do it as punishment for his unruly conduct; and theAbbot threatened, moreover, that if he did not obey, he would be placedunder the ban of the Church, which was considered by all the brotherhoodas a dreadful misfortune. 

And so with this threat hanging over him, that very morning, just beforeGabriel reached the Abbey, Brother Stephen had been sent to the oldchapter-house, where he was ordered to work by himself, and to begin thebook at once. And to complete his humiliation, and for fear he might tryto run away, the Abbot caused him to be chained to one of the legs ofthe heavy work-table; and this chain he was to wear every day duringworking hours. 

Now all this made Brother Stephen very angry and unhappy, and his heartwas full of bitterness toward the Abbot and all of the brotherhood andthe world in general, when all at once he heard Gabriel's knock at thedoor; and then, in another moment, the door was softly pushed open, andthere, on the threshold, stood the little boy. 

CHAPTER II. 

BROTHER STEPHEN'S INSPIRATION

GABRIEL knew nothing of Brother Stephen's troubles, and so was smilinghappily as he stepped into the room, holding his cap in one hand, whilewith his other arm he hugged to him his large bunch of violets andcuckoo-buds. Indeed he looked so bright and full of life that evenBrother Stephen felt the effect of it, and his frown began to smooth outa little as he said:

"Well, my lad, who art thou?"

"I am Gabriel Viaud, Brother Stephen, " answered the boy, "and I havecome to help you; for they told me Jacques is fallen ill. What would youlike me to do first?"

To this Brother Stephen scarcely knew what to reply. He was certainly inno mood for work. He was still very, very angry, and thought himselfterribly misused by the Abbot; and though he greatly dreaded thelatter's threats, he had almost reached the point of defying him and theking and everybody else, no matter what dreadful thing happened to himafterward. 

But then as he looked again at the bright-faced little boy standingthere, and seeming so eager to help, he began to relent more and more;and besides, he found it decidedly embarrassing to try to explain thingsto Gabriel. 

So after a little pause, he said to him: "Gabriel, I am not ready forthee at this moment; go sit on yonder bench. I wish to think out amatter which is perplexing me. " Then as Gabriel obediently went over tothe bench and seated himself, he added: "Thou canst pass the timelooking at the books on the shelf above thee. "

So while Brother Stephen was trying to make up his mind as to what hewould do, Gabriel took down one of the books, and was soon absorbed inits pages. Presently, as he turned a new one, he gave a littleinvoluntary exclamation of delight. At this Brother Stephen noticed him, and--

"Ah!" he said, "what hast thou found that seems to please thee?"

"Oh, sir, " answered Gabriel, "this is the most beautiful initial letterI have ever seen!"

Now Gabriel did not know that the book had been made a few years beforeby Brother Stephen himself, and so he had no idea how much it pleasedthe brother to have his work admired. 

Indeed, most people who do good work of any kind oftentimes feel theneed of praise; not flattery, but the real approval of some one whounderstands what they are trying to do. It makes the workman or artistfeel that if his work is liked by somebody, it is worth while to try todo more and better. 

Poor Brother Stephen did not get much of this needed praise, for many ofthe other monks at the Abbey were envious of him, and so were unwillingreally to admire his work; while the Abbot was so cold and haughty andso taken up with his own affairs, that he seldom took the trouble to saywhat he liked or disliked. 

So when Brother Stephen saw Gabriel's eager admiration, he felt pleasedindeed; for Gabriel had a nice taste in artistic things, and seemedinstinctively to pick out the best points of anything he looked at. Andwhen, in his enthusiasm, he carried the book over and began to tellBrother Stephen why he so much admired the painting, without knowing it, he really made the latter feel happier than he had felt for many a day. He began to have a decided notion that he would paint King Louis's bookafter all. And just then, as if to settle the matter, he happened toglance at the corner of the table where Gabriel had laid down his bunchof flowers as he came in. 

It chanced that some of the violets had fallen from the cluster anddropped upon a broad ruler of brass that lay beside the paintingmaterials. And even as Brother Stephen looked, it chanced also that alittle white butterfly drifted into the room through the bars of thehigh, open window; after vaguely fluttering about for a while, at last, attracted by the blossoms, it came, and, poising lightly over theviolets on the ruler, began to sip the honey from the heart of one ofthem. 

As Brother Stephen's artistic eye took in the beauty of effect made bythe few flowers on the brass ruler with the butterfly hovering overthem, he, too, gave a little exclamation, and his eyes brightened and hesmiled; for he had just got a new idea for an illuminated border. 

"Yes, " he said to himself, "this would be different from any I have yetseen! I will decorate King Louis's book with borders of gold; and on thegold I will paint the meadow wildflowers, and the bees and butterflies, and all the little flying creatures. "

Now before this, all the borders of the Abbey books had been painted, inthe usual manner of the time, with scrolls and birds and flowers more orless conventionalized; that is, the artists did not try to make themlook exactly like the real ones, but twisted them about in all sorts offantastic ways. Sometimes the stem of a flower would end in thecurled-up folds of a winged dragon, or a bird would have strangeblossoms growing out of his beak, or perhaps the tips of his wings. 

These borders were indeed exquisitely beautiful, but Brother Stephenwas just tired of it all, and wanted to do something quite different; sohe was delighted with his new idea of painting the field-flowers exactlylike nature, only placing them on a background of gold. 

As he pictured in his mind one page after another thus adorned, hebecame more and more interested and impatient to begin at once. Heforgot all about his anger at the Abbot; he forgot everything else, except that he wanted to begin King Louis's book as quickly as possible!

And so he called briskly to Gabriel, who meantime had reseated himselfon his bench:

"Gabriel, come hither! Canst thou rule lines without blotting? Canstthou make ink and grind colours and prepare gold size?"

"Yes, sir, " said Gabriel, surprised at the monk's eager manner, "I haveworked at all these things. "

"Good!" replied Brother Stephen. "Here is a piece of parchment thoucanst cut and prepare, and then rule it, thus" (and here he showed himhow he wished it done), "with scarlet ink. But do not take yonder brassruler! Here is one of ivory thou canst use instead. "

And then as Gabriel went to work, Brother Stephen, taking a goose-quillpen and some black ink, began skilfully and carefully to make drawingsof the violets as they lay on the ruler, not forgetting the whitebutterfly which still hovered about. The harder he worked the happier hegrew; hour after hour passed, till at last the dinner time came, andGabriel, who was growing very hungry, could hear the footsteps of thebrothers, as they marched into the large dining-room where they all atetogether. 

Brother Stephen, however, was so absorbed that he did not noticeanything; till, by and by, the door opened, and in came two monks, onecarrying some soup and bread and a flagon of wine. As they entered, Brother Stephen turned quickly, and was about to rise, when all at oncehe felt the tug of the chain still fastened about the leg of the table;at this his face grew scarlet with shame, and he sank back in hischair. 

Gabriel started with surprise, for he had not before seen the chain, partly hidden as it was by the folds of the brother's robe. As helooked, one of the two monks went to the table, and, with a key which hecarried, unlocked the chain so Brother Stephen might have a half-hour'sliberty while he ate. The monks, however, stayed with him to keep an eyeon his movements; and meantime they told Gabriel to go out to the Abbeykitchen and find something for his own dinner. 

As Gabriel went out along the corridor to the kitchen, his heart swelledwith pity! Why was Brother Stephen chained? He tried to think, andremembered that once before he had seen one of the brothers chained to atable in the writing-room because he was not diligent enough with hiswork, --but Brother Stephen! Was he not working so hard? And howbeautiful, too, were his drawings! The more Gabriel thought of it themore indignant he grew. Indeed, he did not half-enjoy the bread andsavoury soup made of black beans, that the cook dished out for him; hetook his wooden bowl, and sitting on a bench, ate absently, thinking allthe while of Brother Stephen. 

When he had finished he went back to the chapter-house and found theother monks gone and Brother Stephen again chained. Gabriel felt muchembarrassed to have been obliged to see it; and when Brother Stephen, pointing to the chain, said bitterly, "Thou seest they were afraid Iwould run away from my work, " the lad was so much at a loss to know whatto say, that he very wisely said nothing. 

Now Brother Stephen, though he had begun the book as the Abbot wished, yet he had by no means the meek and penitent spirit which also the Abbotdesired of him, and which it was proper for a monk to have. 

And so if the truth must be told, each time the other monks came in tochain him, he felt more than anything else like seizing both of them, and thrusting them bodily out of the door, or at least trying to do so. But then he could not forget the Abbot's threat if he showeddisobedience; and he had been brought up to dread the ban of the Churchmore than anything else that could possibly happen to him, because hebelieved that this would make him unhappy, not only in this life, but inthe life to come. And so he smothered his feelings and tried to bear thehumiliation as patiently as he could. 

Gabriel could not help but see, however, that it took him some time toregain the interest he had felt in his work, and it was not until theafternoon was half-gone that he seemed to forget his troubles enoughreally to have heart in the pages he was making. 

When dusk fell, Gabriel picked up and arranged his things in order, andbidding Brother Stephen good night, trudged off home. 

CHAPTER III. 

GABRIEL INTERVIEWS THE ABBOT

THE next day of Gabriel's service passed off much the same as the first, and so it went for almost a week; but the boy saw day by day thatBrother Stephen's chain became more and more unbearable to him, and thathe had long fits of brooding, when he looked so miserable and unhappythat Gabriel's heart fairly ached for him. 

At last the lad, who was a sympathetic little fellow, felt that hecould stand it no longer, but must try and help him in some way. 

"If I could only speak to the Abbot himself, " thought Gabriel, "surelyhe would see that Brother Stephen is set free!"

The Abbot, however, was a very stately and dignified person; and Gabrieldid not quite see how a little peasant boy like himself could find anopportunity to speak to him, or how he would dare to say anything evenif he had a chance. 

Now it happened the very morning that Gabriel was thinking about allthis, he was out in the Abbey kitchen beating up the white of a nicefresh egg which he had brought with him from home that day. He had theegg in an earthen bowl, and was working away with a curious woodenbeater, for few people had forks in those days. And as he beat up thewhite froth, the Abbey cooks also were very busy making pasties, androasting huge pieces of meat before the great open fireplace, and bakingloaves of sweet Normandy bread for the monks' dinner. 

But Gabriel was not helping them; no, he was beating the egg for BrotherStephen to use in putting on the gold in the border he was painting. Forthe brothers did not have the imitation gold powders of which we see somuch to-day; but instead, they used real gold, which they ground up veryfine in earthen mortars, and took much trouble to properly prepare. Andwhen they wanted to lay it on, they commonly used the white of a freshegg to fasten it to the parchment. 

[Illustration: "_He saw the Abbot walking up and down_"]

So Gabriel was working as fast as he could, for Brother Stephen waswaiting; when all at once he happened to look out the kitchen door, which opened on a courtyard where there was a pretty garden, and he sawthe Abbot walking up and down the gravel paths, and now and thenstopping to see how the tulips and daffodils were coming on. 

As Gabriel looked, the Abbot seated himself on a stone bench; and thenthe little boy, forgetting his awe of him, and thinking only of BrotherStephen and his chain ran out as fast as he could, still holding hisbowl in one hand and the wooden beater in the other. 

As he came up to where the Abbot was sitting, he courtesied in suchhaste that he spilled out half his egg as he eagerly burst out:

"O reverend Father! will you not command Brother Stephen to be set freefrom his chain?"

The Abbot at first had smiled at the droll figure made by the littleboy, whom he supposed to be one of the kitchen scullions, but at thisspeech he stiffened up and looked very stern as Gabriel went onbreathlessly:

"He is making such a beautiful book, and he works so hard; but the chainis so dreadful to him, and I was sure that if you knew they had put iton him, you would not allow it!"

Here the Abbot began to feel a trifle uncomfortable, for he saw thatGabriel did not know that he himself had ordered Brother Stephen to wearthe chain. But he mentioned nothing of this as he spoke to Gabriel. 

"Boy, " he said, severely, "what affair of thine is this matter aboutBrother Stephen? Doubtless if he is chained, it is a punishment he hathmerited. 'Tis scarcely becoming in a lad like thee to question thesethings. " And then, as he looked sharply at Gabriel, he added, "DidBrother Stephen send thee hither? Who art thou?"

At this Gabriel hung his head, and, "Nay, sir, " he answered, simply, "hedoes not know, and perhaps he will be angry with me! I am hiscolour-grinder, and I was in the kitchen getting the egg for hisgold, "--here suddenly Gabriel remembered his bowl, and looking down indismay, "Oh, sir, " he exclaimed, "I have spilled the egg, and it wasfresh-laid this morning by my white hen!" Here the boy looked sohonestly distressed that the Abbot could not but believe that he spokethe truth, and so he smiled a little as he said, not unkindly:

"Well, never mind about thy hen, --go on; thou wast in the kitchen, andthen what?"

"I saw you in the garden, " answered Gabriel, "and--and--I thought thatif you knew about the chain, you would not like it;" (here the Abbotbegan to look very stern again); "and, " Gabriel added, "I could not bearto see Brother Stephen so unhappy. I know he is unhappy, for whenever henotices the chain, he frowns and his hand trembles so he can hardlypaint!"

"Ah, " said the Abbot to himself, "if his hand trembles, that is anothermatter. " For the Abbot knew perfectly well that in order to dosuccessfully anything so delicate as a piece of illumination, one musthave a steady hand and untroubled nerves; and he began to think thatperhaps he had gone a little too far in punishing Brother Stephen. Sohe thought a minute, and then to Gabriel, who was still standing beforehim, not quite knowing what to do, he merely said:

"Go back to thy work, lad, and mind thy colours; and, " he added withhaughty dignity, "I will do as I think best about Brother Stephen'schain. "

So Gabriel went back to the kitchen feeling very uncomfortable, for hewas afraid he had displeased the Abbot, and so, perhaps, done more harmthan good to Brother Stephen. While he was quite sure he had displeasedBrother Stephen, for he had kept him waiting a long while, and worsestill, had spilled the best egg there was in the kitchen! However, thelad begged one of the cooks to let him have another egg, and, whiskingit up as quickly as he could, made haste to carry it to thechapter-house. 

As he pushed open the door, Brother Stephen said, sharply, "How now! Ithought they had chained thee to one of the tables of the kitchen!"

"I am so sorry, " said Gabriel, his face very red, --"but--I--I spilledthe first egg and had to make ready another. "

He hoped Brother Stephen would not ask him how he happened to spill it;for by this time he began to realize that the high-spirited monkprobably had reasons of his own for submitting to the punishment of thechain, and that very likely he would be displeased if he knew that hislittle colour-grinder had asked the Abbot to free him. So Gabriel feltmuch relieved when, without further questions, Brother Stephen went onwith his work, in which for the moment he was greatly absorbed. 

And thus the day went quietly on, till early in the afternoon; when, tothe great surprise of both of them, the door slowly opened, and inwalked the Abbot himself. 

The Abbot was haughty, as usual, and, as Brother Stephen saw him comein, he raised his head with an involuntary look of pride and resentment;but neither spoke as the Abbot stepped over to the table, and examinedthe page on which the monk was working. 

This particular page happened to be ornamented with a wide border ofpurple flag-flowers, copied from some Gabriel had gathered the daybefore in a swampy corner of one of the wayside meadows. Their freshgreen leaves and rich purple petals shone with royal effect against thebackground of gold; while hovering over them, and clinging to theirstems, were painted honey-bees, with gauzy wings, and soft, furry-looking bodies of black and gold. 

As the Abbot saw how beautiful it all was, and how different from anyother of the Abbey illuminations, he smiled to himself with pleasure. For the Abbot, though he never said a great deal, yet very well knew agood piece of artistic work when he saw it. Instead of merely smiling tohimself, however, it would have made Brother Stephen much happier if hehad taken the trouble to say aloud some of the nice things he wasthinking about the work. 

For Brother Stephen felt very bitter as he thought over all he had beenmade to bear; and even as the Abbot looked, he saw, sure enough, thathis hand trembled as Gabriel had said; for the poor monk had hard workto control his feelings. 

Now the Abbot really did not mean to be unkind. It was only that he didnot quite know how to unbend; and perhaps feeling this, he soon wentout. 

Gabriel, who had been very much afraid he might say something to himabout their conversation of the morning, felt greatly relieved when thedoor closed behind him; and the rest of the afternoon he and BrotherStephen worked on in silence. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE HOUR BOOK

BUT the next morning when Gabriel reached the Abbey, to his great joy hefound the chain gone (for the Abbot had so ordered after his visit tothe chapter-house), and Brother Stephen already hard at work, and happyas a bird. For like many other artist souls, when things went wrong, Brother Stephen suffered dreadful unhappiness; while, on the other hand, when pleased, he was full of boundless delight; and so, being relievedfrom the chain, he was in one of his most joyous moods. 

He smiled brightly as Gabriel entered; and the April sunlight streamingin through the high narrow windows sparkled so radiantly, and so filledthem with the life and energy and gladness of the spring-time, that eachof them felt as though he could do no end of work, and that King Louis'sbook should be one of the most beautiful things in all the world!

And that morning was but the beginning of a long series of happy daysthat Brother Stephen and Gabriel were to spend together. At first themonk knew nothing of how it happened that he was freed from thehumiliation of the chain; but one day he heard about Gabriel's talkwith the Abbot from one of the brotherhood who had chanced to be in thegarden that morning, and had overheard them. 

At first Brother Stephen was rather displeased; for he did not like itthat the little boy had begged of the Abbot something which he himselfwas too proud to ask. But when he thought it over, and reflected that itwas out of sheer kindness that Gabriel had made the request, his heartstrangely warmed toward the lad. Indeed, through all his life in theAbbey, no one had ever really cared whether he was happy or unhappy; andso poor Brother Stephen had had no idea how very pleasant it would beto have even a little peasant boy take an interest in him. And as dayafter day went by, he began to love Gabriel, as he had never beforeloved any one. 

Yes, those were very happy days for both of them, and very busy ones, too. Every morning Gabriel would come to the Abbey with his hands filledwith the prettiest wild flowers he could find on the way; and from theseBrother Stephen would select the ones that pleased him best to paint. Sometimes it would be the sweet wild hyacinths of pale blue, sometimesthe yellow marsh-marigolds, and again the little deep pink field-roses, or some other of the innumerable lovely blossoms that every seasonbrought. And with them all, as he had said, he put in the small flyingcreatures; butterflies and bees, scarlet ladybugs and pale greenbeetles, whose wings looked like scraps of rainbows; and sometimes, inhis zeal, he even painted the little snails with their curled-up shells, and the fuzzy caterpillars that happened to come in on Gabriel'sbouquets, and you really would never believe how very handsome eventhese looked in the gold borders, when Brother Stephen got through withthem. 

And so, day by day, the book grew in perfect beauty. And as BrotherStephen worked, there was much for Gabriel to do also. For in those daysartists could not buy their ink and paints all ready for use as they doto-day, but were obliged to prepare by hand almost all their materials;and a little assistant such as Gabriel had to keep his hands busy, andhis eyes open, too. 

For instance, the matter of the ink alone, Gabriel had to have on hismind for weeks; for one could not then buy it ready made, in a bottle, as we do now without the least trouble, but the monks or theircolour-grinders had to make it themselves. 

And this is the way Gabriel had been taught to do it: morning aftermorning of those early spring days, as he trudged along on his way tothe Abbey, he kept sharp watch on the young hawthorn-trees by theroadside; and when their first buds showed, and while they were stilltiny, he gathered armfuls of the boughs, and carried them to the Abbey, where he spread them out in a sunny corner of the courtyard to stayuntil quite dry. Then he had to put them in a stone mortar and pound offall the bark; and this he put to steep in great earthen jars of water, until the water might draw all the sap from out the bark. All this tookseveral weeks to do. 

And then Gabriel spent a number of busy days in the great kitchen. Therehe had a large saucepan, and in it he placed, a little at a time, thewater in which the bark was steeping; and then raking out some coalsfrom the blazing fire of logs, he set his saucepan over them, andwatched the barky water until it had boiled down very thick, much as oneboils down syrup for preserves. 

Then he dipped out the thick liquid into little bags of parchment, whichhe had spent days stitching up very tightly, so that nothing could leakout. After the little bags were filled, he hung them out-of-doors in thebright sunlight; and as the days grew warmer and warmer, the sun soondried their contents, so that if one of the little bags were opened itwould be found filled with a dark powder. 

And then, last of all, when Brother Stephen wished some fresh ink forhis writing, or for the delicate lines about his initial letters orborders, Gabriel would take a little of the dry powder from one of thebags, and, putting it in a small saucepan over the fire, would melt itwith a little wine. And so at last it would be ready for use; a fine, beautiful black ink that hundreds of years have found hard work to fade. 

[Illustration: "_Dreaming of all the beautiful things he meant topaint_"]

Then there was the gold to grind and prepare; that was the hardest ofall, and fairly made his arms ache. Many of the paints, too, had to beworked over very carefully; and the blue especially, and other brilliantcolours made from vegetable dyes, must be kept in a very curious way. Brother Stephen would prepare the dyes, as he preferred to do thishimself; and then Gabriel would take little pieces of linen cloth anddip a few in each of the colours until the linen would be soaked; andafterward, when they had dried in the sun, he would arrange these bitsin a little booklet of cotton paper, which every night Brother Stephen, as was the custom with many of the monks, put under his pillow so thatit might keep very dry and warm; for this preserved the colours in alltheir brightness. And then when he wanted to use some of them, he wouldtell Gabriel to cut off a bit of the linen of whatever colour he wished, and soak it in water, and in this way he would get a fine liquidpaint. 

For holding this paint, as dishes were none too plenty in those days, mussel shells were generally used; and one of Gabriel's tasks was togather numbers of these from the banks of the little river that ranthrough one of the Abbey meadows. That was very pleasant work, though, and sometimes, late in the afternoons of those lovely summer days, Brother Stephen and Gabriel would walk out together to the edge of thislittle river; the monk to sit on the grassy bank dreaming of all thebeautiful things he meant to paint, while Gabriel hunted for the prettypurple shells. 

And oftentimes the lad would bring along a fishing-pole and try his luckat catching an eel; for even this, too, had to do with the making of thebook. For Brother Stephen in putting on the gold of his borders, whilehe generally used white of egg, yet for certain parts preferred a gluemade from the skin of an eel; and this Gabriel could make very finely. 

So you see there were a great many things for a little colour-grinder todo; yet Gabriel was very industrious, and it often happened that hewould finish his tasks for the day, and still have several hours tohimself. And this was the best of all; for at such times BrotherStephen, who was getting along finely, would take great pleasure inteaching him to illuminate. He would let the boy take a piece ofparchment, and then giving him beautiful letters and bits of borders, would show him how to copy them. Indeed, he took so much pains in histeaching, that very soon Gabriel, who loved the work, and who had a realtalent for it, began to be quite skilful, and to make very good designsof his own. 

Whenever he did anything especially nice, Brother Stephen would seemalmost as much pleased as if Gabriel were his own boy; and hugging himaffectionately, he would exclaim:

"Ah, little one, thou hast indeed the artist soul! And, please God, Iwill train thy hand so that when thou art a man it shall never know thehard toil of the peasant. Thy pen and brush shall earn a livelihood forthee!" And then he would take more pains than ever to teach Gabriel allthe best knowledge of his art. 

Nor did Brother Stephen content himself with teaching the boy only topaint; but in his love for him, he desired to do still more. He had nowealth some day to bestow upon him, but he had something that was a verygreat deal better; for Brother Stephen, like many of the monks of thetime, had a good education; and this he determined to share withGabriel. 

He arranged to have him stay at the Abbey for his supper as often as hecould be spared from home; and hour after hour of the long summerevenings he spent teaching the lad to read and write, which was reallyquite a distinction; for it was an accomplishment that none of thepeasants, and very few of the lords and ladies of that time possessed. Gabriel was quick and eager to learn, and Brother Stephen graduallyadded other things to his list of studies, and both of them took thegreatest pleasure in the hours thus passed together. 

Sometimes they would go out into the garden, and, sitting on one of thequaint stone benches, Brother Stephen would point out to Gabriel thedifferent stars, or tell him about the fragrant growing plants aroundthem; or, perhaps, repeat to him some dreamy legend of old, oldNormandy. 

And then, by and by, Gabriel would go home through the perfumed dark, feeling vaguely happy; for all the while, through those pleasantevenings with Brother Stephen, his mind and heart were opening brightlyas the yellow primroses, that blossomed by moonlight over all the Abbeymeadows. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE COUNT'S TAX

AND in this happy manner the spring and summer wore away and the autumncame. Brother Stephen felt very cheerful, for the beautiful book grewmore beautiful week by week; and he was very proud and happy, because heknew it was the loveliest thing he had ever made. 

Indeed, he himself was so cheerful, that as the autumn days, one afteranother, melted away, it was some little time before he noticed thatGabriel was losing his merriness, and that he had begun to look sad anddistressed. And finally, one morning, he came looking so very unhappy, that Brother Stephen asked, with much concern:

"Why, lad, whither have all thy gay spirits taken flight? Art thou ill?"

"Nay, sir, " answered Gabriel, sadly; "but oh, Brother Stephen, we are inso much trouble at home!"

At this the monk at once began to question him, and learned thatGabriel's family were indeed in great misfortune. 

And this is how it came about: in those days the peasant folk had a veryhard time indeed. All of the land through the country was owned by thegreat nobles; and the poor peasants, who lived on the little farms intowhich the land was divided, had few rights. They could not even move toanother place if they so wished, but were obliged to spend all theirlives under the control of whatever nobleman happened to own the estateon which they were born. 

They lived in little thatched cottages, and cultivated their bits ofland; and as rent for this, each peasant was obliged to help support thegreat lord who owned everything, and who always lived in a strongcastle, with armed men under his command. 

The peasants had to raise wheat and vegetables and sheep and cows, sothat the people of the castles might eat nice, white bread, and nutcookies and roast meat; though the poor peasants themselves had to becontent, day after day, with little more than hard, black bread, andperhaps a single bowl of cabbage or potato soup, from which the wholefamily would dip with their wooden spoons. 

Then, too, the peasants oftentimes had to pay taxes when their noblelord wished to raise money, and even to follow him to war if he socommanded, though this did not often happen. 

And now we come to the reason for Gabriel's troubles. It seems that theCount Pierre de Bouchage, to whose estate Gabriel's family belonged, had got into a quarrel with a certain baron who lived near the town ofEvreux, and Count Pierre was determined to take his followers and attackthe baron's castle; for these private wars were very common in thosedays. 

But Count Pierre needed money to carry on his little war, and so hadlaid a very heavy tax on the peasants of his estate; and Gabriel'sfather had been unable to raise the sum of money demanded. For besidesGabriel, there were several little brothers and sisters in the family, Jean and Margot and little Guillaume, who must be clothed and fed; andthough the father was honest and hard-working, yet the land of theirlittle farm was poor, and it was all the family could do to findthemselves enough on which to live. 

When peasant Viaud had begged Count Pierre to release him from the tax, the count, who was hard and unsympathetic, had become angry, and givenorders that the greater part of their little farm should be taken fromthem, and he had seized also their little flock of sheep. This was agrievous loss, for out of the wool that grew on the sheeps' backs, Gabriel's mother every winter made the warm, homespun clothes for allthe family. 

Indeed, Count Pierre had no real right to do all this; but in thosetimes, when a noble lord chose to be cruel and unjust, the poorpeasants had no way to help matters. 

And this was not all of Gabriel's woes; for only a few days after he hadtold these things to Brother Stephen, when he went home at night, hefound his mother crying bitterly, and learned that Count Pierre, who washaving some trouble in raising his money, and so had become moremerciless than ever, had that day imprisoned his father at the castle, and refused to release him unless some of the tax were paid. 

This was the hardest blow of all; and though the other children were tooyoung to understand all that had befallen them, poor Gabriel and hismother were so distressed that neither slept that night; and the nextmorning when the little boy arose, tired out instead of rested by thelong night, he had scarcely the heart to go away to the Abbey, and leavethings so miserable at home. But his mother thought it best for him tokeep on with his work with Brother Stephen, because of the little sum heearned; and then, too, he felt that he must do his part to help untilKing Louis's book was finished. After that, he did not know what hecould do! He did not know how he could best try to take his father'splace and help the family; for, after all, he knew he was only a littleboy, and so things seemed very hopeless!

Indeed the grief and poverty that had come upon them at home madeGabriel so sad that Brother Stephen was quite heart-broken, too, for hedeeply loved the lad. As he worked, he kept trying all the while tothink of some way to help them; but as the monk had passed all his lifewithin the walls of the Abbey, he knew but little of the ways of theoutside world; and he had no money of his own, or he would gladly havepaid the tax himself. 

CHAPTER VI. 

GABRIEL'S PRAYER

MEANTIME, though they worked quietly, they were both very industrious;and at last one day, late in October, when the first snow was beginningto fall, Brother Stephen finished the last page of the beautiful book. He gave a sigh as he laid down his paintbrush; not because he was tired, but because in his heart he was really sorry to finish his work, for heknew that then it would soon be taken away, and he hated to part withit. 

As he and Gabriel laid all the pages together in the order in which theywere to go, brother Stephen's heart swelled with pride, and Gabrielthought he had never seen anything half so lovely!

The text was written in beautiful letters of the lustrous black inkwhich Gabriel had made; and at the beginnings of new chapters, wonderfulinitial letters glittered in gold and colours till they looked likelittle mosaics of precious stones. 

Here and there through the text were scattered exquisite miniaturepictures of saints and angels; while as for the borders that enclosedevery page, they wreathed around the written words such lovely garlandsof painted blossoms, that to Gabriel the whole book seemed a marvellousbouquet of all the sweet flowers he had daily gathered from the Normanfields, and that Brother Stephen, by the magic of his art, had madeimmortal. 

Indeed the little boy fairly blinked as he looked at the sparklingbeauty of those pages where the blossoms were to live on, through thecenturies, bright and beautiful and unharmed by wind or rain or thedriving snow, that even then was covering up all the bare frost-smittenmeadows without. 

And so Gabriel turned over page after page shining with gold and purpleand rose-colour, till he came to the very last of the text; and then hesaw that there was yet one page more, and on turning over this he readthese words:

"I, Brother Stephen, of the Abbey of St. Martin-de-Bouchage, made thisbook; and for every initial letter and picture and border of flowersthat I have herein wrought, I pray the Lord God to have compassion uponsome one of my grievous sins!"

This was written in beautifully, and all around it was painted agraceful border like braided ribbons of blue. 

Now in Brother Stephen's time, when any one finished an especiallybeautiful illumination of any part of the Bible, it was quite customaryfor the artist to add, at the end, a little prayer. Indeed, no one canmake a really beautiful thing without loving the work; and thoseold-time artist-monks took such delight in the flowery pages theypainted, that they felt sure the dear Lord himself could not help but bepleased to have his words made so beautiful, and that he would so grantthe little prayer at the end of the book, because of the loving labourthat had gone before. 

As Gabriel again read over Brother Stephen's last page, it set him tothinking; and a little later, as he walked home in the frosty dusk, hethought of it again. 

It was true, he said to himself, that all the beautiful written andpainted work on King Louis's book had been done by Brother Stephen'shands, --and yet, --and yet, --had not he, too, helped? Had he not gatheredthe thorny hawthorn, and pricked his fingers, and spent days and daysmaking the ink? Had he not, week after week, ground the colours and thegold till his arms ached, and his hands were blistered? Had he not madethe glue, and prepared the parchment, and ruled the lines (and one hadto be _so_ careful not to blot them!), and brought all the flowers forthe borders?

Surely, he thought, though he had not painted any of its lovely pages, yet he had done his little part to help make the book, and so, perhaps--perhaps--might not the Lord God feel kindly toward him, too, and be willing to grant a little prayer to him also?

Now of course Gabriel could have prayed any time and anywhere, andsimply asked for what he wanted. But he had a strong feeling that Godwould be much more apt to notice it, if the prayer were beautifullywritten out, like Brother Stephen's, and placed in the book itself, onthe making of which he had worked so long and so hard. 

Gabriel was very pleased with his idea, and by the time he reached home, he had planned out just what he wanted to say. He ate his supper of hardblack bread very happily, and when, soon after, he crept into bed andpulled up his cover of ragged sheepskin, he went to sleep with his headso full of the work of the past few months, that he dreamed that thewhole world was full of painted books and angels with rose-colouredwings; that all the meadows of Normandy were covered with gold, and theflowers fastened on with white of egg and eel-skins; and then, just ashe was getting out his ruler to rule lines over the blue sky, he rubbedhis eyes and woke up; and, finding it was morning, he jumped out of bed, and hastened to make himself ready for his day's work. 

When he reached the Abbey, Brother Stephen was busy binding together thefinished leaves of the book; for the monks had to do not only thepainting, but also the putting together of their books themselves. 

After Gabriel had waited on Brother Stephen for awhile, the latter toldhim he could have some time to himself, and so he hurried to get out thelittle jars of scarlet and blue and black ink, and the bits of parchmentthat Brother Stephen had given him. He looked over the parchmentcarefully, and at last found one piece from which he could cut a pagethat was almost as large as the pages of the book. It was an old piece, and had some writing on one side, but he knew how to scrape it offclean; and then taking some of the scarlet ink, he ruled some lines inthe centre of the page, and between these, in the nicest black lettershe knew how to make, he wrote his little prayer. And this is the way itread:

"I, Gabriel Viaud, am Brother Stephen's colour-grinder; and I have madethe ink for this book, and the glue, and caught the eels, and ground thegold and colours, and ruled the lines and gathered the flowers for theborders, and so I pray the Lord God will be kind and let my father outof prison in Count Pierre's castle, and tell Count Pierre to give usback our meadow and sheep, for we cannot pay the tax, and mother says wewill starve. "

Now in the little prayers that the monks added at the end of a book, itwas the custom to ask only that their sins might be forgiven. ButGabriel, though he knew he had plenty of sins, --for so the parish priestof St. Martin's village told all the peasant folk every Sunday, --yetsomehow could not feel nearly so anxious to have them forgiven, as hewas to have his father freed from prison in the castle, and their littlefarm and flock restored to them; and so he had decided to word hisprayer the way he did. 

It took him some time to write it out, for he took great pains to shapeevery letter as perfectly as possible. Nor did he forget that BrotherStephen had taught him always to make the word God more beautiful thanthe others; so he wrote that in scarlet ink, and edged it with scallopsand loops and little dots of blue; and then all around the whole prayerhe made graceful flourishes of the coloured inks. He very much wishedfor a bit of gold with which to enrich his work, but gold was tooprecious for little boys to practise with, and so Brother Stephen hadnot given him any for his own. Nevertheless, when the page was finished, the artistic effect was very pleasing, and it really was a remarkablyclever piece of work for a little boy to have made. 

He did not tell Brother Stephen what he was doing, for he was afraidthat perhaps he might not quite approve of his plan. Not that Gabrielwished for a moment to do anything that Brother Stephen would not likehim to do, but only that he thought their affairs at home so desperatethat he could not afford to risk losing this means of help;--and then, too, he felt that the prayer was his own little secret, and he did notwant to tell any one about it anyway. 

And so he was greatly relieved that Brother Stephen, who was very muchabsorbed in his own work, did not ask him any questions. The monk wasalways very kind about helping him in every way possible, but neverinsisted on Gabriel's showing him everything, wisely thinking that manytimes it was best to let the boy work out his own ideas. So Gabriel saidnothing about his page, but put it carefully away, until he could findsome opportunity to place it in the book itself. 

Meantime Brother Stephen worked industriously, and in a few days more hehad quite finished the book. He had strongly bound all his painted pagestogether, and put on a cover of violet velvet, which the nuns of anear-by convent had exquisitely embroidered in pearls and gold. And, last of all, the cover was fastened with clasps of wrought gold, setwith amethysts. Altogether it was a royal gift, and one worthy of anyqueen. Even the Abbot, cold and stately though he usually was, exclaimed with pleasure when he saw it, and warmly praised BrotherStephen upon the loveliness of his work. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE BOOK GOES TO LADY ANNE

AND it was well that the beautiful book was finished, for the very nextafternoon a nobleman, with several attendants, arrived at the Abbey tosee if the work were done. The nobleman was Count Henri of Lisieux, whohad been sent by King Louis to bear to Lady Anne a precious casket ofjewels as part of his bridal gifts to her; and the count had alsoreceived orders from the king to go to St. Martin's Abbey on his way, and if the book of hours were finished, to take it along to the LadyAnne. 

Count Henri was greatly pleased when they showed the work to him, and hesaid that he knew both King Louis and his bride could not help but bedelighted with it. And then, after it had been duly looked at andadmired, the book was wrapped up in a piece of soft, rich silk and laidon a shelf in the chapter-house to wait until the next morning, whenCount Henri would take it away. For he had come far, and the Abbot hadinvited him to stay overnight in the Abbey before going on with hisjourney. 

While all this was taking place, and the book was being examined, Gabriel had been quietly at work in one corner of the chapter-house, grinding some gold; and when he heard that Count Henri was going awaythe next morning, he knew that if he expected to put his own little pagein the book, he must do so some time before he went home that evening;and he did not quite see how he could manage it. 

Late in the afternoon, however, a little before dusk, all the othersleft the chapter-house, Brother Stephen to go to his own cell, while theAbbot took Count Henri out to show him over the Abbey. And just as soonas they were gone, Gabriel hastily put down the stone mortar in which hewas grinding the gold, and, going over to the work-table, opened thedrawer in which he kept his own things, and took out the page on whichhe had written his little prayer. 

He then went to the shelf and took down the book. He felt guilty as heunfolded the silk wrappings, and his hands trembled as he loosened thegolden clasps, and hurriedly slipped in his piece of parchment. He putit in at the very back of the book, after Brother Stephen's last page. Then carefully refastening the clasps, and again folding it up in itssilken cover, he replaced the book on the shelf. 

Poor Gabriel did not know whether he had done very wrong or not intaking this liberty with the painted book. He only knew that he couldnot bear to have it go away without his little prayer between itscovers; and he thought that now God would surely notice it, as he hadwritten it as nicely as he knew how, and had placed it next to BrotherStephen's. 

By this time it was growing dark, and so Gabriel left the Abbey and tookhis way home. When he reached their forlorn little cottage, he foundonly a scanty supper awaiting him, and very early he went to bed; forthey had but little fire and were too poor to afford even a singlecandle to burn through the long winter evening. 

[Illustration: "_Taking down the book . . . He unwrapped and unclaspedit_"]

As Gabriel lay shivering in his cold little bed, he wondered how longit would be before God would grant his prayer for help. And then hewondered if God would be displeased because he had dared to put it inthe beautiful book without asking permission from Brother Stephen or theAbbot. And the more he thought of the possibility of this, and of alltheir other troubles, the more miserable he felt, till at last he sobbedhimself to sleep. 

The poor little boy did not know that after he himself had been sleepingfor several hours, Brother Stephen, who had not slept, came out of hiscell in the Abbey, and, carrying in his hand a small lamp, passed softlydown the corridor and into the chapter-house. For Brother Stephen, like many another true artist who has worked long and lovingly upon someexquisite thing, found it very hard to part with that which he had made. He did not expect ever again to see the beautiful book after it left theAbbey, and so he felt that he must take a farewell look at it all byhimself. 

As he entered the chapter-house, he set the lamp on the table; and thentaking down the book and placing it also on the table, he unwrapped andunclasped it, and seating himself in front of it, looked long andearnestly at each page as he slowly turned them over, one by one. 

When at last he came to the end, and found a loose leaf, he picked itup in dismay, wondering if his binding could have been so badly donethat one of the pages had already become unfastened. But his look ofdismay changed to bewilderment as he examined the page more closely, andsaw Gabriel's little prayer. He read this over twice, very slowly; andthen, still holding the page in his hand, he sat for a long time withhis head bowed; and once or twice something that looked very like a tearfell on the stone floor at his feet. 

After awhile the lamp began to burn low; and Brother Stephen rising, gave a tender look to the loose page he had been holding, and thencarefully put it back in the book, taking pains to place it, as nearlyas he could, exactly as Gabriel had done. Then, with a sigh, he shut thevelvet covers, once more fastened the golden clasps, and, replacing thesilken wrappings, laid the book on the shelf, and went back to his cell. 

The next morning Count Henri and his escort made ready for their journeyto Bretagne. Count Henri himself placed the precious book in the samevelvet bag which held the casket of jewels for the Lady Anne, and thisbag he hung over his saddle-bow directly in front of him, so that hecould keep close watch and see that no harm befell King Louis's gifts. 

And then he and his soldiers mounted their horses, and, taking acourteous leave of the Abbot and the brotherhood of St. Martin's, theytrotted off along the frosty road. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

LADY ANNE WRITES TO THE KING

AFTER several days' journey they entered Bretagne, and before long drewnear to the city of Nantes and the castle of Lady Anne. This castle wasvery large, and had many towers and gables and little turrets withsharp-pointed, conical roofs. There was a high wall and a moat allaround it, and as Count Henri approached, he displayed a little bannergiven him by King Louis, and made of blue silk embroidered with threegolden lilies. 

At the sight of this, the keepers of the drawbridge (who in those daysalways had to be very watchful not to admit enemies to their lord'scastle) instantly lowered the bridge, and Count Henri and his guard rodeover and were respectfully received within the gate. 

They dismounted in the courtyard, and then, after resting awhile in oneof the rooms of the castle, Count Henri was escorted into the great hallof state, where Lady Anne was ready to receive him. 

This hall was very large and handsome, with a high, arched ceiling, andwalls hung with wonderful old tapestries. Standing about in groups werenumbers of picturesquely dressed pages, ladies-in-waiting, richly clad, and Breton gentlemen gorgeous in velvets and lace ruffles, for a hundredof these always attended Lady Anne wherever she went. At one end of thehall was a dais spread with cloth of gold, and there, in a carved chair, sat the Lady Anne herself. She wore a beautiful robe of brocaded crimsonvelvet, and over her dark hair was a curious, pointed head-dress ofwhite silk embroidered with pearls and gold thread. 

As Count Henri approached, she greeted him very cordially; and then, kneeling before her, he said:

"My Lady, I have the happiness to deliver to your hands these bridalgifts which our gracious sovereign, King Louis, did me the honour toentrust to my care. "

And then, as he handed to her the casket of jewels and the silkenpackage containing the hour book, she replied:

"Sir Count, I thank you for your courtesy in bearing these gifts to me, and I am well pleased to receive them. "

Then summoning a little page, she told him to carry the presents up toher own chamber, where she might examine them at her leisure. 

By and by, Count Henri withdrew, after asking permission to start thenext morning on his return to Paris; for he wished to report to theking that he had safely accomplished his errand. 

And then Lady Anne, having given orders that he and his followers behospitably entertained during their stay in the castle, mounted thegreat stone staircase, and went to her own room, for she very muchwanted to look at the gifts from King Louis. 

These she found on a table where the little page had placed them. Thecasket was uncovered, while the book was still wrapped up in the pieceof silk, so that one could not tell just what it was. 

[Illustration: "_Began slowly to turn over the pages_"]

Lady Anne opened the casket first, as it happened to be nearest to her;and she drew in her breath, and her eyes sparkled with pleasure, as shelifted out a magnificent necklace, and other rich jewels that gleamedand glittered in the light like blue and crimson fires. She tried on allthe ornaments, and then, after awhile, when she had admired them to herheart's content, she took up the silk-covered package, and curiouslyunwrapped it. When she saw what it contained, however, her face grewradiant with delight, and--

"Ah!" she exclaimed to herself, "King Louis's gifts are indeed princely, and this one is the most royal of all!"

For King Louis had been entirely right in thinking nothing would pleasethe Lady Anne quite so much as a piece of fine illumination. 

Still holding the book carefully in her hands, she at once seatedherself in a deep, cushioned chair, and began slowly to turn over thepages, taking the keenest pleasure, as she did so, in every fresh beautyon which her eyes fell. When she had gone about half through the book, she lifted it up to look more closely at an especially beautiful initialletter, and then, all at once, out fluttered the loose leaf whichGabriel had put in. 

As it fell to the floor, a little page near by hastened to pick it up, and, bending on one knee, presented it to Lady Anne. At first shefrowned a little, for she thought, as had Brother Stephen, that thebook must have been badly bound. But when she took the leaf in her hand, to her surprise, she saw that it was different from the others, and thatit had not been bound in with them; and then she read over the writingvery carefully. When she had finished, she sat for some time, just asBrother Stephen had done, holding the page in her hand, while her facewore a very tender expression. 

Lady Anne was really deeply touched by Gabriel's little prayer, and shewished greatly that she herself might find a way to help him and hisfamily out of their trouble. 

But the more she thought about it, she realized that she had noauthority over a Norman nobleman, and that no one in France, except theking, was powerful enough to compel Count Pierre to release the peasantViaud from imprisonment. 

So going over to a little writing-table, she took out a thin sheet ofparchment, a quaint goose-quill pen, and a small horn full of ink, andwrote a letter which she addressed to King Louis. Then she took theloose leaf on which Gabriel's prayer was written, and, folding it inwith her letter, tied the little packet with a thread of scarlet silk(for no one used envelopes then), and sealed it with some red wax. Andon the wax she pressed a carved ring which she wore, and which left aprint that looked like a tiny tuft of ermine fur encircled by a bit ofknotted cord; for this was Lady Anne's emblem, as it was called, andKing Louis, seeing it, would know at once that the packet came from her. 

Then she went down into the great hall of the castle, and sent one ofher Breton gentlemen to bring Count Henri. When the latter entered, shesaid to him:

"Sir Count, it would give me great pleasure to keep you longer as myguest, but if you must return to Paris tomorrow, I will ask you to be mybearer for a little packet which I am anxious to send to King Louis. "

Then, as she handed it to him, she added with a smile, "I give it toyou now, for if you ride early in the morning, I must leave my Bretongentlemen to do the honours of your stirrup-cup. "

(This last was the cup of wine which it was considered polite to offer adeparting guest as he mounted his horse, and was a little ceremony overwhich Lady Anne liked to preside herself; that is, when her guests wentaway at agreeable hours. )

As Count Henri received the packet from her, he made a very deep bow, and replied that he would be most happy to serve the Lady Anne in anyway he could, and that he only awaited her command to start at once onhis journey. 

"Nay, " said Lady Anne, with another little smile, "'tis no affair ofstate importance! Only a matter of my own on which I have set my heart. But I will not hear to your setting forth, until you have sat at mytable and rested overnight in the castle. "

To this Count Henri again gallantly bowed his obedience; and then, before long, Lady Anne led all the company into the great banquet-hall, where a number of long tables were set out with roasted game, and breadand wine and the many different cakes and sweetmeats of Bretagne. 

The Lady Anne took her place at the head of the longest table of all, and she placed Count Henri at her right hand. Near them sat many of theladies-in-waiting, and Breton gentlemen of the highest rank; while atthe farther end, beyond a great silver saltcellar standing in the middleof the table, were seated those of less degree. 

The dishes were of gold and silver, and Lady Anne herself was waitedupon by two noblemen of Bretagne, for she lived very magnificently, aswas fitting for the bride of King Louis. 

When the supper was over, they all went back into the great castle hall, where bright fires of logs were blazing in the huge fireplaces; and asthey sat in the firelight, they listened to the beautiful songs andmusic of two troubadours who had that day chanced to come to the castle, and who sang so sweetly that it was very late before the company brokeup for the night. 

All through the evening, however, in spite of the pleasantentertainment, Lady Anne, who was very sympathetic, could not help butthink many times of poor little Gabriel, and how cold and hungry andmiserable he must be! She had been much struck, too, with the beautifulway in which he had written out and ornamented his little prayer, forshe was a good judge of such things; and, as she thought about it, shedetermined some day to see the lad herself. Meantime she was veryanxious to help him as soon as possible. Indeed, she felt much happierwhen the next morning came, and Count Henri set out for Paris; for thenshe knew that her letter and Gabriel's little written page were on theirway to King Louis. 

In due time, Count Henri arrived safely at the king's palace, anddelivered the packet from Lady Anne. And when King Louis broke the waxseal, and read the letter and Gabriel's little prayer, he, too, wasdeeply touched. Lady Anne's letter explained to him about finding theloose page in the beautiful book he had sent her, and asked that hewould see to it that Count Pierre set the boy's father free. 

This King Louis at once determined to do, for he was a just andkind-hearted monarch, and during his reign did much to lighten the taxesand oppression of the peasant-folk; and, moreover, in this trouble ofGabriel's father, he now took an especial interest, as it gave him greatpleasure to grant any wish of the Lady Anne, whom he loved deeply. 

So that very day he sent for a trusty messenger, and after explainingthings to him, directed him to set out as soon as possible for St. Martin's Abbey, and there to seek out Brother Stephen and inquire aboutthe little peasant boy, Gabriel Viaud. And then, if he found everythingto be true that Gabriel had said in his prayer, he was to act accordingto further orders which King Louis gave him. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE KING'S MESSENGER

NOW while all these things had been going on, poor Gabriel had beengrowing more wretchedly unhappy day by day. His people had become poorerand poorer, and the long, cold winter was upon them. They had almostgiven up hope of the release of peasant Viaud from prison, and did notknow where they could get bread or fire to keep them alive through thebitter cold. Sometimes Gabriel thought with despair of how much he hadhoped from his little prayer! For he was sure, by this time, that Godwas angry with him for daring to put it in the beautiful book. 

And to add the last touch to his distress, he had been obliged to giveup his work and lessons at the Abbey; for Brother Stephen had been illfor a time, and unable to paint, and all the other monks hadcolour-grinders of their own. So Gabriel, who could not afford to beidle even for a few days, had been forced to seek employment elsewhere. 

The only work he could find was with a leather dresser in the village ofSt. Martin's, and though it was very hard and distasteful to him, hefelt that he must keep at it, as he could thus earn a few pennies moreeach day than he could as colour-grinder at the Abbey. And yet, with allhis hard toil, the little sum he brought home at night was far fromenough to keep them all from want, to say nothing of paying the taxwhich still hung over them; and so every day they became more hopelessand discouraged. 

Indeed, in those times, when a peasant family fell under the displeasureof their noble lord, it was a bitter misfortune, for there were fewplaces to which they might turn for help. 

And it seemed to Gabriel especially hard to bear all their troubles inthe gracious Christmas season; for it was now past the middle ofDecember. Always before they had had enough for their happy littleChristmas feast, and some to spare. They had always had their sheaf ofwheat put by for the birds; and for two seasons past Gabriel's fatherhad let him climb up the tall ladder and fasten the holiday sheaf, boundwith its garland of greens, to the roof of the little peaked and gableddovecote that stood on top of a carved pole in the centre of thefarmyard. For every Norman peasant always wishes the birds, too, to behappy at the joyous Christmas-tide. 

And always, every Christmas eve, when Gabriel and his little brothersand sister had gone to bed, they had set their wooden shoes in a row onthe hearthstone; and then in the morning when they wakened up, theyalways found that the blessed Christ-child had been there in the night, and filled all the little shoes with red apples and nuts. 

But this Christmas-time everything was so sad and changed, they weresure even the Christ-child would forget them. And, day by day, thelittle supply of coarse meal for their black bread grew smaller andsmaller, and the snow became deeper, and the wintry winds blew more coldand cruelly. 

Meantime, King Louis's messenger was travelling as fast as he could, and three days before Christmas he arrived at St. Martin's Abbey. TheAbbot was greatly surprised to see him, and still more so when he askedif he might speak privately with Brother Stephen. This the Abbotgranted, though he was very anxious to know the messenger's errand; forhe could think of no reason for it, unless there had been somethingwrong with King Louis's book. So he was quite uneasy as he saw themessenger enter Brother Stephen's cell and close the door. 

Brother Stephen, too, was at first much surprised when his visitor toldhim he had come from King Louis to inquire about a peasant boy by thename of Gabriel Viaud; though in a moment it flashed through his mindthat Gabriel's prayer had found its way to the palace, and that theanswer was coming. 

He said nothing of this, however, but when the messenger asked if he hadhad such a boy for colour-grinder, he eagerly answered:

"Yes, and there lives no manlier and sweeter-spirited lad in allFrance!"

"Is it true, " continued the messenger, "that Count Pierre de Bouchagehath imprisoned his father for failure to pay a tax, and that the familyare now in sore distress?"

"Yes, that also is true, " replied the monk very sadly. And then he saidbeseechingly: "But surely King Louis will help them? Surely ourgracious sovereign will not allow such injustice and cruelty?"

Here the messenger answered:

"Nay, our sovereign is indeed a generous monarch! Else had he not beentouched by the little prayer which the peasant lad placed in the bookthou madest for the Lady Anne. Though I dare say thou knewest naught ofit" (here Brother Stephen smiled gently, but said nothing), "yet so thelad did. And 'twas because of that scrap of parchment falling under theeyes of King Louis, that I have journeyed all the way from Paris. And, "he added, as he remembered the heavy snow through which he had ridden, "it takes a stout heart and a stouter horse to brave thy Norman roadsin December!"

Then he asked Brother Stephen a great many more questions, and inquiredwhat road to take in order to find Count Pierre's castle, and also theViaud cottage. And then when he had satisfied himself about all thesematters, he went back to the great hall of the Abbey, where the Abbotwas slowly pacing the floor, telling his beads as he walked. 

The Abbot, though very curious as to the reason of the messenger'svisit, asked him no questions other than if the book for Lady Anne hadbeen entirely satisfactory; and he felt relieved when the messengerassured him that so far as he knew both the king and Lady Anne had beengreatly delighted with it. Then, after talking a little while aboutBrother Stephen's artistic work, the messenger briefly explained to theAbbot his errand, and told him that King Louis had ordered him to makehis inquiries about Gabriel as quietly as possible. 

As he heard, the Abbot raised his eyebrows and looked somewhatdisapproving, when he realized that the peasant lad who had dared to puthis page into the beautiful book was the same little colour-grinder whohad had the boldness to speak to him, one day in the garden, and ask himto take off Brother Stephen's chain. However, whatever he may havethought, he kept it to himself; he treated the messenger with muchcourtesy, and, on bidding him good night, invited him to stay as a guestof the Abbey so long as he chose. 

The next morning the messenger rode to the Viaud farm, and, though hedid not go into the cottage, he looked it over carefully and the landabout it; and then he took the highway that led to the castle of CountPierre de Bouchage. 

When he reached the castle, he asked to see Count Pierre, and so wastaken into the great hall, where the count received him in a veryhaughty manner. He became somewhat more polite, however, when he learnedthat King Louis had sent the messenger to him; though he lookeddecidedly blank when the latter presented to him a letter written onparchment and fastened with a wax seal stamped with the king's emblem, which was the print of a little porcupine with the quills on his backstanding up straight, and a crown on top of them. 

On seeing this letter, Count Pierre looked blank because the truth was, that, like many other noble lords at that time, he could read only withgreat difficulty. But then the messenger rather expected this, and so heasked permission to read the parchment to him, and Count Pierrefrowningly assented. 

Indeed, though the messenger pretended not to notice his angry looks, hefrowned blacker and blacker as the reading went on. For King Louisrequested in the letter that Count Pierre at once release from prison inhis castle one Jacques Viaud, peasant on his estate. And the kingfurther said that he himself wished to buy the Viaud cottage and farm, together with a good-sized piece of ground that adjoined it (themessenger, in looking it over that morning, had selected a piece of landwhich was much better soil than the most of the Viaud farm), and hestated that for this purpose he had sent by his messenger a certain sumin gold pieces. 

The king mentioned also that he would like to have the flock of sheep, with the addition of fifty more than had been taken from them, restoredto the Viaud family. And, finally, he said that he desired Count Pierreto do these things in honour of his king's approaching marriage with theLady Anne. For when kings and queens marry, it is generally customaryfor them, and for many of the loyal noblemen who are their subjects, tobestow gifts and benefits upon the poor people, so that every one may beas happy as possible on the royal wedding-day. 

Now Count Pierre really did not care a fig to do honour to King Louis'smarriage, and he was very angry to be asked to release a peasant whomhe had imprisoned, and to restore flocks which he had seized; andespecially was he furious at the request to buy the land, for he did notwish to sell it, and so to lose control over the peasant-folk who livedthere. 

But, nevertheless, in spite of his wrath, the count knew well enoughthat he had no real right to do as he had done, and that King Louis knewit also; and that therefore the very best thing he could do was to obeythe king's wishes at once. 

King Louis had made his letter a polite request rather than a command, because some of his unruly subjects, like Count Pierre, were proud anddifficult to manage, and he wished to settle matters pleasantly andpeaceably, if possible. And so, in asking him to honour the royalwedding, he gave the count an excuse to yield to his king's wishes, without hurting his pride so much as if he were obliged to obey acommand. 

Count Pierre began to see this, too; and, moreover, he knew that, notwithstanding the politeness of his letter, the king had plenty ofsoldiers, and that he would not hesitate to send them to the Castle deBouchage, if necessary, to bring its lord to terms. And he very wiselyreflected that to fight King Louis would be a much more dangerous andexpensive undertaking than the private war with the Baron of Evreux, which he already had on his hands. 

Before yielding to the requests in the letter, however, Count Pierrewished to satisfy himself that the messenger had correctly read it tohim. And so, haughtily demanding it for a few minutes, he hurried out ofthe hall, and sent a page scampering off to bring to him a troubadour;for one or more of these wandering singers were always to be found inevery nobleman's castle, and the count knew that most of them couldread. 

When in a few minutes the page came back, followed, close at his heels, by a man in motley dress, with a viol hung over his shoulders, CountPierre, without waiting to greet the latter, thrust the parchment intohis hands with the gruff command:

"There, fellow! read this letter for me instantly! and if thou makest asingle mistake, I will have thee strangled with the strings of thine ownviol, and tumbled off the highest turret of this castle before set ofsun!"

At this fierce threat, the troubadour began at once to read, taking careto make no mistakes. Count Pierre listened attentively to every word, and when the troubadour came to the end, having read it exactly as themessenger had done, the count angrily snatched it from his hands, and, swallowing his rage as best he could, went slowly back to the castlehall. 

Then, after a few moments' silence, he very ungraciously andill-naturedly gave orders that peasant Viaud be released from prison, and the sheep sent back. He made a very wry face over the fifty extraones, and did not look at all anxious to celebrate King Louis'sapproaching wedding. 

And then he took the gold pieces which the messenger offered him, andreluctantly scrawled his name (it was all he could write, and that verybadly) to a piece of parchment which the messenger had ready, and which, when Count Pierre had signed it, proved that he had sold to King Louisthe land and cottage, and no longer held control over peasant Viaud orany of his family. 

When this was done, the messenger, bidding the nobleman a courteousfarewell, left the latter still very angry and scowling, and, above all, lost in amazement that King Louis should take all this trouble onaccount of a poor, unknown peasant, who had lived all his life on a tinyfarm in Normandy! And as no one ever explained things to him, CountPierre never did know how it had all come about, and that, however muchagainst his will, he was doing his part toward helping answer Gabriel'slittle prayer. 

CHAPTER X. 

GABRIEL'S CHRISTMAS

WHEN the messenger reached the courtyard of the castle, he found peasantViaud awaiting him there. The poor man looked very pale and wan from hisimprisonment, and his face pitifully showed what anxiety he had sufferedin thinking about his family left with no one to help them. His clothes, too, were thin and worn, and he shivered in the cold December wind. Noticing this, the messenger at once sent word to Count Pierre that hewas sure King Louis would be highly gratified, if, in further honour ofhis coming marriage, the count would supply peasant Viaud with a warmsuit of clothes before leaving the castle. 

This message was almost too much for Count Pierre to bear, but he didnot dare to refuse. And the messenger smiled to himself when, by and by, a page came and called Gabriel's father into the castle, from which, ina little while, he came out, warmly clad, and quite bewildered at allthat was happening to him. 

As they set out together for the Viaud cottage, peasant Viaud walking, and the messenger riding very slowly, the latter explained to him allabout Gabriel's little prayer in the beautiful book, and how Lady Annehad sent it to King Louis, to whom he owed his release from prison. Butthe messenger added that, aside from the lad's father and mother, theking did not wish any one, not even Gabriel himself, to know how it hadall come about. 

For King Louis declared that he himself did not deserve any thanks, butthat the good God had only chosen the Lady Anne and himself and CountPierre (though the latter did not know it) as the means of answeringGabriel's prayer, and of helping the Christ-child bring happiness at theblessed Christmas-time. For King Louis had not forgotten that the greatday was near at hand. 

Of the promised return of the sheep, and the buying of the farm by theking, the messenger said nothing then; and when they had nearly reachedthe cottage, he took leave of peasant Viaud and rode back to the Abbey. For, having finished the king's errand, before going away, he wanted tosay good-bye to the Abbot and brothers of St. Martin's, and also to getsome of his belongings which he had left at the Abbey. 

A few minutes after the messenger had left him, peasant Viaud reachedthe cottage and raised the latch, --but then it is no use trying to tellhow surprised and happy they all were! how they hugged and kissed eachother, and laughed and cried!

And then, when the first excitement was over, they began soberly towonder what they would do next; for they still feared the displeasure ofCount Pierre, and still did not know where to turn to raise the tax, orto help their poverty. 

"If only he had not taken the sheep, " said Gabriel's mother, sadly, "atleast I could have spun warm clothes for all of us!"

But even as she spoke, a loud "Baa! Baa!" sounded from up the road, andpresently along came a large flock of sheep followed by one of CountPierre's shepherds, who, without saying a word to any one, skilfullyguided them into the Viaud sheepfold, and there safely penned them in;then, still without a word, he turned about and went off in thedirection of the castle. 

Gabriel's father and mother, who from the cottage window had watched allthis in silent amazement, looked at each other, too bewildered to speak. Then they went out together to the sheepfold, and peasant Viaud, whobegan to realize that this, too, must be part of King Louis's orders, explained to his wife that which the messenger had told him. When he hadfinished, they went back, hand in hand, to the house, their eyes filledwith happy tears, and in their hearts a great tenderness for the littleson who had brought help to them. 

[Illustration: "_He passed a little peasant boy_"]

Just before dark, that same afternoon, the king's messenger, havingtaken leave of the Abbey folk, once more passed along the highroad. Onhis way, he was particular to stop at the Viaud cottage, where hecontrived to have a few minutes' talk alone with Gabriel's mother, andthen wishing her a merry Christmas, he spurred his horse, and rode alongon his journey back to Paris. 

As he neared St. Martin's village, he passed a little peasant boy, in aworn blouse, walking toward the country; and had he known that this samelad was the Gabriel because of whom, at King Louis's order, he hadridden all the way from Paris, he would certainly have looked at the boywith keen interest. 

While for his part, had Gabriel known that the strange horseman was amessenger from the king, and that he had that day played a veryimportant part in the affairs of the Viaud family, --had he knownthis, --he surely would have stood stock-still and opened his eyes widewith amazement!

But the messenger was absorbed in his own thoughts, and so rode swiftlyon; while poor Gabriel was too sad and wretched to pay much attention toany one. 

As the lad drew near home, however, all at once he fancied he heard thebleating of sheep. At this he pricked up his ears and began to run, hisheart suddenly beating very fast with excitement!

When he reached the sheepfold, sure enough, there was no mistaking thesounds within. He opened the door and hurried through the thatched shed, noting with delight the rows of woolly backs glistening in the twilight, and then, bursting into the cottage, rushed up to his father and kissedand hugged him with all his might!

Indeed, Gabriel was so happy and excited that he did not realize that hewas not at all surprised with their good fortune. For miserable as hehad been for weeks, and though he had thought that he had quitedespaired of his prayer being answered, yet deep down in his heart, without knowing it, all the while he had cherished a strong hope that itwould be. 

Nor was Brother Stephen surprised either, when, at barely daybreak thenext morning, before going to his work, Gabriel hurried up to the Abbeyand told him all about it. His face beamed with delight, however, and heseemed almost as happy over it all as Gabriel himself. He smiled, too, but said nothing, as the lad wondered over and over what God had done toCount Pierre, to make him willing to free his father and restore thesheep! He only said, as he gently patted Gabriel's hair:

"There, there, little one! the good God hath many ways of softeningmen's hearts, and never thou mind in what manner he hath chosen tomanage the Count Pierre!"

Just then one of the monks went past the open door, his arms full ofevergreens, and carrying in his hand a pot of the pretty white flowersthat the Norman peasant folk call Christmas roses. Seeing him, BrotherStephen told Gabriel that he must go and help the brothers trim theAbbey church for the joyous service of the morrow; and so with anotheraffectionate little pat, he went out to do his part in arranging theholiday greens and garlands and tall wax candles, while Gabriel hurriedoff to his work in the village. 

The little boy was so happy, though, over the things that had happenedat home, that he went about all day in a sort of wondering dream. Andthat evening as he went home from his work, very tired, but stilldreaming, the early Christmas-eve stars shone and twinkled so radiantlyover his head and the snow sparkled so brightly under his feet, that hefairly tingled through and through with the nameless, magic happiness ofthe blessed season!

And when he reached home, and sat down next to his father while they atetheir scanty supper, they all felt so glad to be together again thatnobody minded that the pieces of black bread were smaller than ever, and that when the cold wind blew through the crevices of the cottagewalls, there was not enough fire on the hearth to keep them fromshivering. 

Indeed, they were all so much happier than they had been for many weeks, that when Gabriel and the younger children went to bed, the latter, withmany little gurgles of laughter, arranged their little wooden shoes onthe hearth, just as they had always done on Christmas eve. 

For they said to each other, Jean, and Margot, and little Guillaume, that surely the good God had not forgotten them after all! Had he notbrought back their father and the sheep? And surely he would tell thelittle Christ-child to bring them a few Christmas apples and nuts!

Gabriel, however, took no part in their talk, and he did not set hisshoes on the hearth with the others; not that he feared they would beforgotten, but rather because he thought that he had already asked forso much and been so generously answered, that he had had his share ofChristmas happiness. 

His father was freed from prison, and the flock of sheep, with fiftymore than they had had before, were back in the fold; and though theywere not yet relieved from the tax, nor was their land restored to them, as he had prayed, yet he felt sure that these, too, would come about insome way. 

And so, considering all these things, he did not quite like to set outhis wooden shoes, and thus invite the Christ-child to give him more; forhe knew the Christ-child had a great many shoes to attend to that night. So Gabriel, as he made himself ready for bed, pretended not to hear thechatter of his little brothers and sister, nor to notice what they weredoing. 

When peasant Viaud, however, saw them standing their little empty shoesin front of the meagre fire, he bowed his head on his hands, and thetears trickled through his fingers. But the mother smiled softly toherself, as she kissed each of the children and tucked them into theirworn sheepskin covers. 

Next morning, at the first peep of day, every one in the cottage waswide awake; and as soon as they opened their eyes, the children alljumped out of bed and ran to the hearth with little screams of delight. For there stood the little wooden shoes, --Gabriel's, too, though he hadnot put them there, --and even a larger one apiece for the father andmother, and the blessed Christ-child had not forgotten one!

Only instead of apples and nuts, they were filled with the mostwonderful bonbons; strange sugar birds, and animals, and candied fruitssuch as no peasant child in Normandy had ever before seen; for theywere sweetmeats that no one but the cooks of old Paris knew just how tomake. 

And then, as with eager fingers the children drew out these marvels, down in the toe of each shoe they found a little porcupine of whitesugar with pink quills tipped with a tiny, gilded, candy crown; and lastof all, after each little porcupine, out tumbled a shining yellow goldpiece stamped with the likeness of King Louis. 

Even the larger shoes were filled with bonbons, too, and from the toe ofthe mother's out dropped a gold piece, like the others, only larger. Butwhen the father, with clumsy hands, emptied his shoe, instead of a goldpiece, there fell out a small parchment roll fastened with a silkencord, and showing at one corner a wax seal bearing the print of thelittle royal porcupine and crown. 

Peasant Viaud gazed at it for a few minutes, in utter bewilderment, andthen handing it to Gabriel, who was standing by, he said:

"Here, child, 'tis a bit of writing, and thou art the only one of us whocan read. See if Brother Stephen's lessons have taken thee far enough tomake out the meaning of this!"

Gabriel took the roll and eagerly untied the cord, and then he carefullyspelled out every word of the writing, which was signed by Count Pierrede Bouchage. 

For it was the very same parchment which King Louis's messenger hadmade Count Pierre sign to prove that he had sold to the king, for acertain sum of gold, the old Viaud farm, together with a piece of goodland adjoining it; and then, at the end of the deed, as the writing wascalled, there were a few lines from King Louis himself, which said thatin honour of the blessed Christmas-time the king took pleasure inpresenting to peasant Viaud, and his heirs for ever, everything that hehad bought from Count Pierre. 

When Gabriel had finished reading, no one spoke for a little while; itwas so hard to realize the crowning good fortune that had befallen them. Peasant Viaud looked fairly dazed, and the mother laughed and cried asshe snatched Gabriel to her and kissed him again and again. The youngerchildren did not understand what it all meant, and so went on munchingtheir sweetmeats without paying much attention to the little piece ofparchment which Gabriel still held in his hand. 

As for Gabriel, he really had had no idea that any one could possibly beso happy as he himself was at that moment! He had not the least notionof how it had all come about; he only knew that his heart was fairlybursting with gratitude to the dear God who had answered his littleprayer so much more joyously and wonderfully than he had ever dared todream of!

In his excitement he ran out of the house and hurried into thesheepfold, where he patted the soft woolly backs of each of the sheep, and then he raced around the snowy meadows trying to realize that allthese belonged to his family for ever! And that Count Pierre could neveragain imprison his father or worry him with heavy taxes!

But the wonders of this wonderful day were not yet over; for presently, as Gabriel raised his eyes, he saw a strange horseman coming down theroad and looking inquiringly in the direction of the Viaud cottage. Thenseeing the boy standing in the meadow, the horseman called out:

"Ho, lad! Is this the farm of the peasant Viaud?"

"Yes, sir, " answered Gabriel, coming up to the road; and then, "Art thou Gabriel?" asked the rider, stopping and looking curiously atthe little boy. 

When again Gabriel wonderingly answered, "Yes, sir, " the strangerdismounted, and, after tying his horse, began deliberately unfasteningthe two fat saddle-bags hanging over the back of the latter; and loadinghimself with as much as he could carry, he gave Gabriel an armful, too, and walked toward the cottage. 

To the surprised looks and questions of Gabriel's father and mother, heonly said that the Christ-child had been in the castle of the Lady Anneof Bretagne, and had ordered him to bring certain things to the familyof a Norman peasant boy named Gabriel Viaud. 

And such delightful things as they were! There was a great roll ofthick, soft blue cloth, so that they could all be warmly clad withoutwaiting for the mother to spin the wool from the sheeps' backs. Therewere nice little squirrel-fur caps for all the children; there were moreyellow gold pieces; and then there was a large package of the mostenchanting sweetmeats, such as the Bretons make at Christmas-time;little "magi-cakes, " as they were called, each cut in the shape of astar and covered with spices and sugar; curious old-fashioned candiesand sugared chestnuts; and a pretty basket filled with small roundloaves of the fine, white bread of Bretagne; only instead of theordinary baking, these loaves were of a special holiday kind, withraisins, and nuts, and dried sweet-locust blossoms sprinkled over thetop. 

Indeed, perhaps never before had so marvellous a feast been spread undera peasant roof in Normandy! All were beside themselves with delight; andwhile the younger children were dancing round and round in happybewilderment, Gabriel snatched up a basket, and hurriedly filling itwith some of the choicest of the sweetmeats, started off at a brisk runfor the Abbey; for he wanted to share some of his Christmas happinesswith Brother Stephen. 

When he reached the Abbey, his eyes bright with excitement, and hischeeks rosy from the crisp cold air, and poured out to Brother Stephenthe story of their fresh good fortune, the monk laughed with delight, and felt that he, too, was having the happiest Christmas he had everknown. 

And then, by and by, when he took Gabriel by the hand and led him intothe Abbey church for the beautiful Christmas service, as the little boyknelt on the stone floor and gazed around at the lovely garlands ofgreen, and the twinkling candles and white Christmas roses on the altar, half-hidden by the clouds of fragrant incense that floated up from thecensers the little acolytes were swinging to and fro, --as he listened tothe glorious music from the choir, and above all, as he thought of howthe dear God had answered his prayer, the tears sprang to his eyes fromvery joy and gratitude! And perhaps that Christmas morning no one in allFrance, not even King Louis himself, was quite so happy as the littlepeasant boy, Gabriel Viaud. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE KING'S ILLUMINATOR

AND to say that he was happier than even King Louis, is saying a verygreat deal; for King Louis spent the day most delightfully in Bretagne, in the castle of his bride to be, the Lady Anne. And then, just afterthe holiday season had passed, early in January, he and Lady Anne weremarried with great ceremony and splendour. 

After the wedding, for three months, the king and queen lingered inBretagne; enjoying themselves by night with magnificent entertainmentsin the castle, and by day in riding over the frosty fields and inhunting, of which both of them were very fond. And then in April, whenthe first hawthorn buds were beginning to break, they journeyed down toParis to live in the king's palace. 

Before long, King Louis and Queen Anne decided to make a number ofimprovements in this palace; and as they both were great lovers ofbeautiful books, they determined, among other things, to build a largewriting-room where they could have skilful illuminators always at workmaking lovely books for them. 

When this room was finished, and they began to think of whom they wouldemploy, the first one they spoke of was Brother Stephen, whose exquisitework on the book of hours had so delighted them. But then, much as theywished to have him in the palace, they did not think it possible to doso, as they knew he belonged to the brotherhood of St. Martin's Abbey, and so of course had taken vows to spend his whole life there. 

It chanced, however, soon after this, that King Louis happened to have alittle talk with the messenger he had sent to the Abbey at Christmastime to see about Gabriel. And this messenger told the king that whilethere the Abbot, in speaking to him of Brother Stephen's work, had saidthat the latter really wished to leave the brotherhood and go into theworld to paint; and that, though he had refused his request to be freedfrom his vows, yet the monk had worked so faithfully at King Louis'sbook that he thought he had earned his freedom, and that perhaps he, theAbbot, had done wrong in forcing him to stay at the Abbey if he wishedto study his art elsewhere. 

In short, he had as much as said that if Brother Stephen ever againasked for his freedom, he would grant it; and this showed that the Abbothad relented and unbent a great deal more than any one could ever havebelieved possible. 

When King Louis heard what the messenger told him, he was greatlypleased; and after talking it over with the queen, he decided to sendthe same messenger post-haste back to the Abbey to ask for the servicesof Brother Stephen before the Abbot might again change his mind. 

Now King Louis was a very liberal monarch, and both he and Queen Anneliked nothing better than to encourage and help along real artists. Andso they thought that they would supply Brother Stephen with money sothat he could travel about and study and paint as he chose, even if hepreferred always to paint larger pictures rather than to illuminatebooks; though they hoped that once in awhile he might spend a littletime in their fine new writing-room. 

When the messenger started, they told him to explain all this to BrotherStephen, and let the latter plan his work in whatever way best pleasedhim. 

But the queen gave particular orders that, if possible, the messengerwas to bring the peasant boy, Gabriel Viaud, back to the palace withhim; for she thought the lad's work on the page where he had written hislittle prayer showed such promise that she wished to see him, and tohave him continue his training in the beautiful art of illumination. 

The messenger, having thus received his orders, at once set out againfor Normandy; and he found this second journey much more pleasant thanthe one he had made before, through the winter snows. For this time herode under tall poplar-trees and between green hedgerows, where thecuckoos and fieldfares sang all day long. And when, after several days'travelling, he drew near St. Martin's Abbey, the country on either sideof the road was pink with wild roses and meadowsweet, just as it hadbeen a year before, when Gabriel used to gather the clusters offield-flowers for Brother Stephen to paint in the beautiful book. 

Indeed, Gabriel still gathered the wild flowers every day, but onlybecause he loved them; for though, since their better fortunes, he wasagain studying and working with Brother Stephen, the latter was thenbusy on a long book of monastery rules, with only here and there acoloured initial letter, and which altogether was not nearly sointeresting as had been the book of hours with its lovely paintedborders. 

And so when the messenger reached the Abbey, and made known his errand, they were both overjoyed at the prospect King Louis offered them. 

After talking with the messenger, the Abbot, true to his word, in asolemn ceremony, freed Brother Stephen from his vows of obedience tothe rules of St. Martin's brotherhood; and then he gave both him andGabriel his blessing. 

Brother Stephen, who had been too proud to ask a second time for hisfreedom, was now delighted that it had all come about in the way it did, and that he could devote his time to painting anything he chose. 

Gabriel, too, was enchanted at the thought of all that he could do andlearn in the king's palace; and though he felt it hard to leave hishome, Queen Anne had kindly made it easier for him by promising thatsometimes he might come back for a little visit. 

So in a few days he and Brother Stephen had made all their preparationsto leave; and they set out, Gabriel going with the messenger directly toKing Louis's palace in Paris; while Brother Stephen, taking the bag ofgold pieces which the king and queen had sent for him, travelled to manyof the great cities of Europe, where he studied the wonderful paintingsof the world's most famous masters, and where he himself made manybeautiful pictures. In this way he spent a number of happy months. 

And then, just as a great many other people do, who find out that assoon as they are not compelled to do a certain kind of work, they reallylike it very much better than they thought, so, Brother Stephen, beingno longer obliged to illuminate books, all at once discovered that hereally enjoyed painting them more than anything else in the world. 

And so it was that, by and by, to the gratification of the king andqueen, and above all to the great delight of Gabriel, he made his way tothe great writing-room of the palace in Paris. And there, in the doingof his exquisite artistic work, he passed the rest of his long and happylife. 

And through all the years the warm love and friendship between himselfand Gabriel was as sweet and beautiful and as unchanging as any of thewhite and golden lilies that they painted in their rarest books. ForGabriel, too, became one of the finest illuminators of the time, andhis work was much sought for by the great nobles of the land. 

Indeed, to this day, many of the wonderful illuminations that were madein that writing-room are still carefully kept in the great libraries andmuseums of France and of Europe. And some time, if ever you have thehappiness to visit one of these, and are there shown some of the paintedbooks from the palace of King Louis XII. And Queen Anne, if the work isespecially lovely, you may be quite certain that either Brother Stephen, or Gabriel, or perhaps both of them together, had a hand in its making. 

 THE END.