The widow did according to her father’s will.  She kindled a fire, and taking the babe, washed and cherished her in her need.  Very certain she was, when she saw that rich stuff of crimson samite, and the golden ring about the arm, that the girl was come of an honourable race.  The next day, when the office was ended, the porter prayed the Abbess that he might have speech with her as she left the church.  He related his story, and told of the finding of the child.  The Abbess bade him to fetch the child, dressed in such fashion as she was discovered in the ash.  The porter returned to his house, and showed the babe right gladly to his dame.  The Abbess observed the infant closely, and said that she would be at the cost of her nourishing, and would cherish her as a sister’s child.  She commanded the porter strictly to forget that he took her from the ash.  In this manner it chanced that the maiden was tended of the Abbess.  The lady considered the maid as her niece, and since she was taken from the ash, gave her the name of Frene.  By this name she was known of all, within the Abbey precincts, where she was nourished.

When Frene came to that age in which a girl turns to woman, there was no fairer maiden in Brittany, nor so sweet a damsel.  Frank, she was, and open, but discreet in semblance and in speech.  To see her was to love her, and to prize her smile above the beauty of the world.  Now at Dol there lived a lord of whom much good was spoken.  I will tell you his name.  The folk of his country called him Buron.  This lord heard speak of the maiden, and began to love her, for the sweetness men told of her.  As he rode home from some tournament, he passed near the convent, and prayed the Abbess that he might look upon her niece.  The Abbess gave him his desire.  Greatly was the maiden to his mind.  Very fair he found her, sweetly schooled and fashioned, modest and courteous to all.  If he might not win her to his love, he counted himself the more forlorn.  This lord was at his wits end, for he knew not what to do.  If he repaired often to the convent, the Abbess would consider of the cause of his comings, and he would never again see the maiden with his eyes.  One thing only gave him a little hope.  Should he endow the Abbey of his wealth, he would make it his debtor for ever.  In return he might ask a little room, where he might abide to have their fellowship, and, at times, withdraw him from the world.  This he did.  He gave richly of his goods to the Abbey.  Often, in return, he went to the convent, but for other reasons than for penitence and peace.  He besought the maiden, and with prayers and promises, persuaded her to set upon him her love.  When this lord was assured that she loved him, on a certain day he reasoned with her in this manner.

“Fair friend,” said he, “since you have given me your love, come with me, where I can cherish you before all the world.  You know, as well as I, that if your aunt should perceive our friendship, she would be passing wrath, and grieve beyond measure.  If my counsel seems good, let us flee together, you with me, and I with you.  Certes, you shall never have cause to regret your trust, and of my riches you shall have the half.”