"Here I am, all alone in the world, separated from my son and grandson

to the end of my days," said my foster-sister to me. "You know,

Schanvoch, all the affection of my life was centered upon those two

beings, so dear to my heart. Do not leave me alone. Come, you, your son

and Sampso, come and stay with me. You will aid me thereby to bear the

burden of my grief."

At first I hesitated to accept Victoria's offer. Due to a shocking

fatality, I was the slayer of her son. True enough, she knew that,

despite the enormity of Victorin's outrage, I would have spared his

life, had I recognized him. She was aware of and saw the grief that the

involuntary and yet legitimate homicide caused me. Nevertheless, and

horrid was the recollection thereof to her, I had killed her son. I

feared--despite all her protestations, and despite her warmly expressed

desire that I move to her house--that my presence, however much wished

for during the first loneliness of her bereavement, might become cruel

and burdensome to her. Finally I yielded. Often did Sampso, in later

years, say to me:

"Alas, Schanvoch, it was only after I saw how tenderly you always spoke

of Victorin to his mother, who, in turn, spoke to you of my poor sister

Ellen in the touching terms that she did, that I, together with all

those who knew us, understood and admired what at first seemed

impossible--the intimacy of you and Victoria, the two survivors of those

victims of a cruel fatality!"

Whenever Victoria sufficiently surmounted her grief to consider the

interests of the country, she applauded herself on having succeeded in

deciding Captain Marion to accept the eminent post of which he daily

proved himself more worthy. She wrote several times to Tetrik in that

sense. He had left the government of Gascony in order to retire with his

son, then about twenty years of age, to a house that he owned near

Bordeaux, and where, as he said, he sought in poetry whatever solace he

could find for the death of Victorin and his son. He composed several

odes on those cruel events. Nothing, indeed, could be more touching than

an ode written by Tetrik on the subject of "The Two Victorins," and sent

by him to Victoria. Accordingly, the letters that he addressed to her

during the two months of Marion's administration were marked with

profound sadness. They expressed in a manner at once so simple, so

delicate and so tender the affection he entertained for her family, and

the sorrow that her bereavement caused him, that my foster-sister's

attachment for her relative increased by the day. Even I shared the

blind confidence that she reposed in him, and forgot the suspicions that

were twice awakened in my mind against the man. Moreover, my suspicions

vanished before the answer made to me by Eustace, when I questioned him

regarding the soldier, my mysterious traveling companion and perpetrator

of the assassination of Victoria's grandson.

"Commissioned by Captain Marion to provide him with a reliable man for

your escort," Eustace answered me, "I picked out a horseman named

Bertal. He was ordered to wait for you at the city gate. After nightfall

I left the advanced post of the camp contrary to orders and went

secretly into the city. I was on my way thither when I met the soldier

on horseback. He was riding along the bank of the river, and was on the

way to meet you. I told him to say nothing of having met me, should he

run across any of our comrades on the road. He promised secrecy, and I

went my way. Early the next morning, as I was returning along the river

bank from Mayence, where I spent part of the night, I saw Bertal running

towards me. He was on foot; he was fleeing distractedly before the just

rage of our comrades. When I learned from his own mouth the horrible

crime that he even dared to glory in, I killed him on the spot. That is

all I know of the wretch."

So far from the information clearing up, it obscured still more the

mystery that brooded over that fatal night. The Bohemian girls had

disappeared; and all inquiries set on foot regarding Bertal, my

traveling companion and subsequent perpetrator of such a horrible deed

as the murder of a child, agreed in representing the man as a brave and

honest soldier, incapable of the monstrous deed imputed to him, and

explainable only on the theory of drunkenness or insane fury.

Accordingly, my son, Marion governed Gaul for two months to the

satisfaction of all. One evening, shortly before sunset, seeking some

diversion from the grief that oppressed me, I took a walk into the woods

near Mayence. I had been walking ahead mechanically a long time, seeking

only silence and seclusion and thus penetrating deeper and deeper into

the wood, when my feet struck an object that I had not noticed. I

tripped and was thus drawn from my sad revery. At my feet lay a casque

the visor and gorget of which were turned up. I recognized on the spot

Marion's casque by those features peculiar to the casque that he wore. I

examined the ground more attentively by the last rays of the sun which

penetrated the foliage with difficulty. I detected traces of blood on

the grass; I followed them; they led to a thicket; I entered it.

There, stretched upon some tree branches that were bent and broken with

his fall, I saw Marion, bareheaded and bathed in his own blood. I

thought he was dead, or at least unconscious. I was mistaken. As I

stooped to raise him and to give him some aid, my eyes caught his; they

were fixed but still clear, despite approaching dissolution.

"Go away, Schanvoch!" Marion said in a voice that though fainting

indicated anger. "I dragged myself to this spot in order to die in

peace--I threw myself into this thicket to escape detection. Go away,

Schanvoch! Leave me alone!"

"Leave you!" I cried, looking at him in stupor and observing that his

blouse was red with blood just above the heart. "Leave you when your

blood is flowing over your clothes, and when your wound is perhaps

mortal!"

"Oh, perhaps!" replied Marion with a sarcastic smile. "It is certainly

mortal, thanks to the gods!"

"I shall run to town!" I cried without stopping to consider the distance

that I had just walked, absorbed as I was in my own sorrow. "I shall go

for help!"

"Ha! Ha! Ha!--to run to the city--and we are two leagues away!" replied

Marion with a lugubrious peal of laughter. "I am not afraid of any help

that you may bring, Schanvoch. I shall be dead in less than a quarter of

an hour. But, in the name of heaven, go away!"

"Are you resolved to die--did you smite yourself with your sword?"

"You have said it."

"No! You are trying to deceive me. Your sword is in its sheath."

"What is that to you? Go away--"

"You were struck by an assassin!" I exclaimed as I ran forward and

picked up a sword still bloody, that my eyes just fell upon and that lay

at a little distance. "This is the weapon that was used."

"I fought in loyal combat--leave me--Schanvoch--"

"You did not fight, and you did not wound yourself. Your sword lies

beside you in its sheath. No, no! You fell under the blows of some

cowardly assassin. Marion, let me examine your wound. Every soldier is

something of a surgeon--if the flow of blood is staunched it may be

enough to save your life--"

"Stop the flow of blood!" cried Marion casting at me an angry look.

"Just you try to stop the flow of the blood from my wound, and you will

see how I will receive you--"

"I shall endeavor to save you," I answered, "despite yourself."

As I spoke I approached Marion who lay flat upon his back. Just as I

stooped over him he bent both his knees over his stomach and immediately

struck out violently with his feet. The kick took me in the chest and

threw me over upon the grass--so powerful was the expiring Hercules.

"Will you still bring me help despite myself?" asked Marion as I rose

up, not angry but desolate over his brutality. If I should be overcome

in this sad struggle, it was clear that I would be compelled to give up

the hope of bringing help to the wounded man.

"Very well! Die!" I said to him, "since such is your wish. Die, since

you forget that Gaul needs your services. But be sure of one thing--your

death will be avenged--we shall discover the name of your assassin--"

"There has been no assassin--I gave myself the wound--"

"This sword belongs to someone," I said picking up the weapon. As I

examined it I thought I could see through the blood that covered it that

its blade bore an inscription. To ascertain the fact, I wiped it with

some leaves. While I was engaged at this Marion cried in agony:

"Will you leave that sword alone! Quit rubbing upon the blade! Oh! My

strength fails me, or I would rise and snatch the weapon from your

hands. A curse upon you, who have come to disturb my last moments! Oh!

It must be the devil who sent you!"

"It is the gods who sent me!" I cried struck almost dumb with horror.

"It is Hesus who sent me for the punishment of the most horrible of

crimes! A friend slay his friend!"

"You lie! You lie!"

"It is Eustace who dealt you the wound!"

"You lie! Oh! Why am I sinking so fast--I would smother those words in

your cursed throat!"

"You were struck by this sword, the gift of your friendship to an

infamous murderer--"

"It is false!"

"'_Marion forged this sword for his dear friend Eustace_'--that is the

sentence engraved upon this blade," I replied to him pointing with my

finger at the inscription graven in the steel. "This is the sword that

you forged yourself."

"The inscription proves nothing," observed Marion in great anguish. "The

man who struck me stole the sword from my friend Eustace--that's all."

"You still seek to screen that man! Oh! There will be no punishment too

severe for the cowardly murderer!"

"Listen, Schanvoch," replied Marion in a sinking and suppliant voice: "I

am about to die--nothing is denied to an expiring man--"

"Oh! Speak! Speak, good and brave soldier. Seeing that, to the

misfortune of Gaul, fatality prevents me from saving you, speak! I shall

execute your last will--"

"Schanvoch, the oath that soldiers give each other at the moment of

death--is sacred, is it not?"

"Yes, my brave Marion."

"Swear to me--that you will reveal to no one that you found here the

sword of my friend Eustace."

"You, his victim--and you wish to save him!"

"Promise me, Schanvoch, that you will do as I ask you--"

"Save the monster from condign punishment! Never! No, a thousand times

no!"

"Schanvoch, I implore you--"

"Your murder shall be avenged--"

"Be, then, yourself accursed! You who say 'No!' to the prayer of an

expiring man--to the prayer of an old soldier--who weeps--you see it. Is

it agony?--is it weakness?--I know not, but I weep--"

And large drops of tears rolled down his face that gradually grew more

livid.

"Good Marion, your kindheartedness distresses me! You, imploring mercy

for your murderer!"

"Who else would take an interest in the unhappy fellow--if I did not?"

he answered with an expression of ineffable mercifulness.

"Oh! Marion, those words are worthy of the young man of Nazareth, whom

my ancestress Genevieve saw put to death in Jerusalem!"

"Friend Schanvoch--mercy--you will say nothing--I rely upon your

promise--"

"No! No! Your celestial mercifulness only renders the crime more

atrocious. No pity for the monster who slew his friend!"

"Go away from me!" feebly murmured Marion, sobbing.

"It is you who harrow my last moments! Eustace only slew my body--but

you, pitiless before my agony, you torture my very soul!"

"Your despair distresses me--and yet listen, Marion. It is not merely

the friend, the old friend that the assassin struck at--"

"For twenty-three years we never left each other's side, Eustace and I,"

Marion mumbled moaning.

"No, it is not the friend only that the monster struck in striking you,

it was also, and perhaps especially, the Chief of Gaul and general of

the army that he aimed at. The mysterious cause of this crime may be of

deep interest to the country's future. The mystery must be fathomed,

uncovered--"

"Schanvoch, you do not know Eustace. He cared little, I know, whether or

not I was Chief of Gaul or general of the army. Moreover, what does that

concern me--now, when I am about to live in yonder new worlds? All I ask

of you is that you grant me this last request--do not denounce my friend

Eustace. I implore you with clasped hands--"

"Granted! I shall keep the secret, but under one condition, that you

inform me how the crime was committed."

"How can you have the heart to drive such a bargain--the peace of

mind--a dying man--"

"The welfare of Gaul may be at stake, I tell you! Everything points to

an infernal plot in this dark affair, the first victims of which were

Victorin and his son. That is why I insist upon learning from you the

details of this atrocious murder."

"Schanvoch--a minute ago I could still distinguish your face--the color

of your clothes--now I see before me only a vague shape. Make haste,

make haste!"

"Answer--how was the crime committed? By Hesus, tell me, and I swear to

you I shall keep the secret--not otherwise."

"Schanvoch--my good friend--"

"Was Eustace acquainted with Tetrik?"

"Eustace never as much as spoke to him--"

"Are you certain?"

"Eustace told me so--he ever felt--without knowing why--an aversion for

the governor--I was not surprised at that. Eustace loved only me--"

"And he killed you! Speak, and I swear to you, by Hesus, that I shall

keep the secret--otherwise, not!"

"I shall speak--but your silence on the matter will not suffice me. A

score of times I proposed to my friend Eustace to share my purse--he met

my tender with insults. Oh! his is not a venal soul--not his--he has no

money--he must surely be without any resources whatever--how will he be

able to flee?"

"I shall help him to flee--I shall furnish him the money that he may

need--I shall be only too glad to rid the camp of such a monster with

all possible speed!"

"A monster!" murmured Marion reproachfully. "You are very severe towards

Eustace."

"How did he manage to inflict a mortal wound upon you, and what was his

reason? Answer my question."

"Since I was acclaimed Chief of Gaul and general, my friend Eustace

became more peevish than ever before, and more sullen--than he usually

was--he feared, poor soul, that my elevation would make me proud--"

Marion choked in his speech. Throwing his arms about at random, he

called out:

"Schanvoch, where are you?"

"Here I am, close to you--"

"I see you no longer," he said in a sinking voice. "Lean my back against

a tree--I am--smothering--"

With no little difficulty I did what Marion desired; his Herculean body

was heavy. Finally, however, I succeeded in drawing him up with his back

against the nearest tree. Reclined against it, Marion continued in a

voice that steadily grew feebler:

"In the measure that--the ill temper of my friend Eustace increased--I

sought to show myself even more friendly than usual towards him. I could

understand his apprehensions. Already, when I was only a captain, he

could not bring himself to treat me as his former companion at the

anvil. When I became general and Chief of Gaul he took me for a

potentate. As to myself, certain that I esteemed him none the less--I

always laughed in his face at his rudeness--I laughed--I did wrong--the

poor fellow was suffering. To make it short--to-day he said to me:

'Marion, it is a long time since we took a walk together, shall we take

a stroll in the woods, near the city?' I had a conference with Victoria.

But fearing to displease my friend Eustace, I wrote to the Mother of the

Camps, excusing myself--and he and I started on our walk arm in arm. I

was reminded of the days of our apprenticeship in the forest of

Chartres--where we used to go to trap magpies. I felt buoyant--and

despite my grey beard--knowing that nobody saw us--I indulged in all

manner of boyish tricks in order to amuse Eustace. I mimicked, as in the

days of our boyhood, the cry of--the magpies--by blowing upon a leaf

held close to my lips. I did other monkey tricks of the same nature--It

was singular--I never felt in better spirits than to-day--Eustace, on

the contrary did not move--a muscle of his face--not--a smile could be

extracted from him. We were a few steps from here, he behind me--he

called me--I turned around--and you will see, Schanvoch, that there

could not have been any wicked purpose on his part--only insanity--pure

insanity. The moment that I turned around he threw himself upon me sword

in hand--and--as he plunged the weapon into my side he cried: 'Do you

recognize this sword, you who forged it yourself?' I admit--I was not a

little surprised--I fell under the blow--I called out to my friend

Eustace: 'What ails you? Explain yourself at least. Have I offended you

in aught without knowing?' But I was only speaking--to the trees--the

poor crazy man had vanished--leaving his sword beside me--another

evidence of insanity--the weapon--you will notice--Schanvoch--the

weapon--bore on the blade the inscription: 'Marion forged this sword for

his dear friend Eustace.'"

These were the last intelligible words of the good and brave soldier. He

expired a few minutes later uttering incoherent words, among which these

recurred with greatest frequency:

"Eustace," "flee," "save yourself."

After Marion had given up the ghost, I hastened back to Mayence in order

to notify Victoria of the occurrence, nor did I conceal from her that my

suspicions again pointed to Tetrik as having a hand in the plot. The

man, I explained, left again vacant the government of Gaul by the

removal of Marion, after Victorin and his son were gotten out of the

way. Although desolate by the death of Marion, my foster-sister

combated my suspicions with regard to Tetrik. She reminded me that I

myself, more than two months before the murder of Marion, was so struck

by the expression of hatred and envy betrayed by the face and words of

the captain's old companion, that I said to her before Tetrik that

Marion must be very much blinded by his affection to fail to perceive

that his friend was devoured by implacable jealousy. Victoria shared the

opinion of the good Marion, that the crime to which he had fallen a

victim had no other cause than the envious hatred of Eustace, who was

driven to the point of insanity by the more recent elevation of his

friend. Besides, a singular coincidence, on that same day my

foster-sister received from Tetrik, then on his way to Italy, a letter

in which he informed her that seeing his health was daily declining, the

physicians saw but one chance of safety for him--a trip to some southern

country. For that reason he was on the way to Rome with his son.

These facts, Tetrik's conduct since the death of Victorin, the touching

letters that he wrote, together with what seemed to be the irrefutable

arguments advanced by Victoria, once more overthrew my mistrust toward

the Governor of Gascony. I also arrived at the conclusion, which was

certainly justified on the face of the events, that, in view of the

previous behavior of Eustace, the atrocious murder committed by him had

no other motive than a savage jealousy, that was driven to the point of

insanity by the recent distinction that fell to the lot of his friend.

I kept the promise that I made to the good and brave Marion at the hour

of his death. His assassination was attributed to some unknown murderer,

but not to Eustace. I took the man's sword with me to Victoria; no

suspicion was drawn to the actual felon, who was never more seen either

at Mayence, or in the camp. Marion's remains, wept over by the whole

army, received the pompous military honors due to a general and a Chief

of Gaul.

CHAPTER VI.

THE TRAITOR UNMASKED.

The direst day of my life since that on which I accompanied the remains

of Victorin, his son and my beloved wife Ellen to the funeral pyre that

was to consume them, was the day on which the following events took

place. They happened, my son, two hundred and sixty years after our

ancestress Genevieve saw the young man of Nazareth die upon the cross,

and five years after the assassination of Marion, the successor of

Victorin in the government of Gaul.

Victoria no longer lived in Mayence, but in Treves, a large and

magnificent Gallic city situated on this side of the Rhine. I continued

to live with my foster-sister. Sampso, who served you as a mother since

the death of my never-to-be-forgotten Ellen, Sampso became my second

wife. On the evening of our marriage she admitted to me a fact of which

I never had any doubt--that having always felt a secret inclination for

me, she had decided never to marry, and to share her life with Ellen,

you, my child, and myself.

My wife's death; the affection and profound esteem that Sampso inspired

in me; her virtues; the kindnesses that she heaped upon you; the love

with which you reciprocated her tenderness towards you--you loved her as

a mother, whose place she worthily filled; the requirements of your

education; finally also the urgent requests of Victoria, who valuing

the qualities of Sampso, warmly urged the union;--all these

circumstances combined to induce me to propose marriage to your aunt.

She accepted. But for the distressing recollections of the death of

Victorin and Ellen, of whom not a day passed but we spoke with tears in

our eyes; but for the incurable grief of Victoria, whose mind ever

turned upon her son and grandson;--but for these circumstances I would,

after so many misfortunes, have re-embraced happiness when I embraced

Sampso as my wife.

Accordingly, I shared Victoria's house in the city of Treves. The sun

had just risen; I was engaged with some writing for the Mother of the

Camps, seeing that I continued my offices near her. Her confidential

servant, called Mora, stepped into the room. The girl claimed to have

been born in Mauritania, whence her name of Mora. Like the inhabitants

of that region, her complexion was bronzed, almost black, like a

Negro's. Nevertheless, despite the somber hue of her face, she was

handsome and young. Since the four years (remember the date, my son),

since the four years that Mora served my foster-sister, she gained her

mistress's affection by her zeal, her reserve and her devotion that

seemed proof against all temptation to change her quarters.

Occasionally, seeking some diversion from her sorrows, Victoria would

ask Mora to sing, because the girl's voice was of remarkable sweetness

and sadness. One of the officers of the army who had been as far as the

Danube, said to us one day as he heard Mora sing, that he had heard

those peculiar songs in the mountains of Bohemia. Mora seemed startled,

and said that she learned the songs she was singing as a little child in

the country of Mauritania.

"Schanvoch," said Mora to me, "my mistress wishes to speak to you."

"I shall follow you, Mora."

"But before you go, one word, I beg you."

"Speak--what is it?"

"You are the friend, the foster-brother of my mistress--what affects her

affects you--"

"Undoubtedly--what are you driving at?"

"You left my mistress last night after having spent the evening with

her, your wife and son--"

"Yes--and Victoria withdrew to her room, as usual."

"Now listen--a short time after your departure, I took to her room a man

wrapped in a cloak. After a conversation with the unknown man, that

lasted deep into the night, instead of going to bed, my mistress was so

agitated that she walked up and down the room until morning."

"Who can that man be?" I asked myself aloud, yielding to my

astonishment. Victoria was not in the habit of keeping any secrets from

me. "What mystery is this?"

Mora believed that I questioned her, an act of indiscretion on my part

that I would have carefully guarded against, out of respect for

Victoria. The girl answered:

"After your departure, Schanvoch, my mistress said to me: 'Go out by the

garden gate. Wait at the little door. You will soon hear a rap. A man in

a cloak will present himself--bring him to me--and not a word upon this

to anyone whatever--'"

"You should, then, have abstained from making the confidence to me."

"Perhaps I am wrong in not keeping the secret, even from you, Schanvoch,

the devoted friend and brother of my mistress. But she seemed to me so

agitated after the departure of the mysterious personage, that I thought

it my duty to tell you all. There is another reason why I decided to

speak to you. I led the man back to the garden gate--I walked a few

steps ahead of him--he seemed to be in a towering rage, and he dropped

terrible threats against my mistress. It was this that determined me to

reveal to you the secret of the interview."

"Did you notify Victoria of the threats made against her?"

"No--I was hardly back to her when she brusquely--she who is otherwise

so gentle towards me--ordered me to leave the room. I withdrew to a

contiguous apartment, and from there I could hear my mistress walk the

room all night in great agitation until dawn when she finally threw

herself upon her couch. A minute ago she called me in and ordered me to

bring you to her. Oh! If you had seen her! She looked so pale and

somber! I thought it best to reveal to you all that had happened--"

I hastened to Victoria in a state of great alarm. The sight of her

struck me painfully. Mora had not exaggerated.

Before proceeding with the thread of this narrative, and to the end of

helping you to understand it, my son, I must give you some details upon

the special arrangement of Victoria's chamber. In the rear of the

spacious apartment was a species of niche covered with heavy curtains.

In that niche, whither my foster-sister frequently retired in order to

think of those whom she had loved so much, hung the casques and swords

of her father, her husband and her son Victorin, over the symbols of our

druid faith. In the niche also stood--a dear and precious relic--the

cradle of the grandson of this woman, whom misfortune had so sorely

tried.

Victoria stepped towards me, reached out her hand, and said in a

faltering voice:

"Brother, for the first time in my life I have kept a secret from you;

brother, for the first time in my life I am about to resort to ruse and

dissimulation."

She then took me by the hand, led me to the niche, drew back the heavy

curtain that closed it from sight, and added:

"Every minute is precious; step into that niche; remain there silent,

motionless, and lose not a word of all that you shall hear. I hide you

in time in order to remove suspicion."

The curtains of the niche closed upon me; I remained in the dark; for a

while I heard only Victoria's steps over the floor as she walked the

room in evident agitation. I was in my hiding place for over half an

hour when I heard the door of Victoria's room open and close. Someone

stepped in and said:

"Greeting to Victoria the Great!"

It was Tetrik's voice, the same mellifluous and insinuating voice. The

following conversation took place between him and Victoria. As she

recommended to me, I engraved every word in my memory, and that same day

I transcribed them, realizing the gravity of the dialogue. Another

circumstance which I shall presently inform you of dictated the

precaution to me.

"Greeting to Victoria the Great," said the former Governor of Gascony.

"Greeting to you, Tetrik."

"Did the night bring counsel, Victoria?"

"Tetrik," answered Victoria in a perfectly calm voice that was in strong

contrast with the agitation under which I had just seen her laboring,

"Tetrik, you are a poet?"

"It is true--I sometimes seek in the cultivation of letters a little

recreation from the cares of state--especially from my undying sorrow

over the untimely departure of our glorious Victorin, whom, contrary to

my expectations, I have survived. I must repeat it to you, Victoria, let

us not speak of that young hero, whom I loved with the deep love of a

father. I had two sons; I have only one left to me.--I am a poet, say

you? Alas! Fain would I be one of those geniuses who render immortal the

heroes of their songs--Victorin would then live in all posterity as he

lives in the hearts of those who knew and mourn for him! But why do you

broach the subject of verses? Have they any connection with the subject

that brings me back to you this morning?"

"Like all poets--you surely read your verses many times over in order to

correct them--and then you forget them, if the term can be used, to the

end that when you read them over anew, you may be struck all the more

forcibly by anything that may hurt your eyes or ears."

"Certes, after having written some ode under the inspiration of the

moment, it has sometimes happened to me that, as the saying is, I let my

verses sleep for several months, and then, reading them over again, was

shocked at things that had at first escaped me. But poetry is not the

question before us."

"There is, indeed, a great advantage in first letting thoughts sleep and

then taking them up again," answered my foster-sister with a phlegma

that surprised me more and more. "Yes, the method is a good one. That

which, under the heat of inspiration may not have at first wounded

us--sometimes shocks our senses when the inspiration has cooled down. If

the test is useful in the instance of frivolous matters like verses,

should it not be all the more useful when grave matters affecting our

lives are concerned?"

"Victoria, I do not grasp your meaning!"

"I yesterday received from you a letter that ran thus: 'This evening I

shall be in Treves unknown to anybody. I conjure you, in the name of the

most vital interests of our beloved country, to receive me in secrecy,

and not to mention the matter to anyone, not even to your friend

Schanvoch. Towards midnight I shall await your answer. I shall be found

wrapped in my cloak near your garden gate.'"

"And you granted me the interview, Victoria. Unfortunately for me it led

to no decisive results, and so, instead of my returning to Mayence, as I

should have done, I find myself compelled to remain at Treves, seeing

you demanded time until this morning to arrive at a conclusion."

"I shall be unable to arrive at any conclusion before submitting your

proposition to the test that we just spoke of. Tetrik, I let your offers

sleep, or rather I slept with them. Repeat to me, now, what you said to

me last night. Mayhap what wounded me then may no longer seem so

objectionable--"

"Victoria, can you joke at such a moment?"

"She who, even before having had to weep over her father and her

husband, over her son and her grandson, rarely laughed--such a woman

will assuredly not choose the hour of eternal mourning to indulge in

jokes. Believe me, Tetrik, I repeat it, your last night's propositions

seemed so extraordinary to me, they have thrown my mind into such

perplexity, they have raised such strange thoughts, that instead of

uttering myself under the shock of my first impressions, I prefer to

forget all that we said, and to listen to you once more, as if you

broached those matters for the first time."

"Victoria, your eminent intellect, your powerful mind that has always

been prompt and unerring in taking a decision, did not, I must confess,

prepare me for such caution and hesitation."

"Simply because never before in my life, now a long one, have I been

called upon to utter myself upon questions of such moment."

"Pray, remember that yesterday--"

"I wish to remember nothing. To me our last night's interview is as if

it had not been. Consider that it is now midnight, Mora has just let you

in by the garden gate, and has brought you to me. Speak--I listen."

"Victoria--what is it that you have in mind?"

"Be careful--if you refuse to broach the matter in full, I might give

you the answer that my first impressions dictated--and you know, Tetrik,

that when I once utter myself, I do so irrevocably."

"Your first impression is, accordingly, unfavorable," cried Tetrik in an

accent of anguish. "Oh! It would be a misfortune, a great misfortune!"

"Speak, then, if it is your desire to avert the misfortune."

"Be it as you desire, Victoria, although such singular conduct on your

part disturbs me. You desire it? I shall satisfy you--our last night's

interview did not take place--I see you now for the first time after a

rather long absence, although a frequent exchange of correspondence kept

us in close touch with each other, and I say to you: It is now five

years ago since, struck at my very heart by the death of Victorin--a

fatal event, that carried away the hopes I entertained for the glory of

Gaul--I lay almost dying in Italy, at Rome, whither my son accompanied

me. According to the opinion of the physicians, the trip was to restore

my health. They erred. My ailments increased. It pleased God that a

Christian priest, whom a recently converted friend secretly introduced

into my house, succeeded in reaching my bedside. The faith enlightened

me--and, while enlightening me, performed a miracle--it saved me from

death. I returned, so to speak, to a new life with a new religion. My

son abjured, as I did, only in secret, the false gods that we had until

then adored. At that stage I received a letter from you, Victoria. You

informed me of the assassination of Marion. Guided by you, and as I had

expected, he had governed Gaul wisely. I remained overwhelmed by such

tidings; they were as distressing as they were unexpected. You conjured

me in the name of the most sacred interests of our country to return to

Gaul. None, you said to me, was capable of replacing Marion except

myself. You even went further. I alone, in the new and peaceful era that

opened to our country, could promote her prosperity by taking the reins

of government. You made a vehement appeal to my old friendship for you,

to my devotion for our country. I left Rome with my son. A month later I

was near you at Mayence. You pledged me your far-reaching influence with

the army--you were what you still are, the Mother of the Camps.

Presented by you to the army I was acclaimed by it. Yes, thanks to you

alone, I, a civil governor, who in my life had never touched a sword, I

was acclaimed the sole Chief of Gaul, and you boldly and proudly

declared on that day to the Emperor that Gaul, strong and feared, and

henceforth independent, would render obedience only to a Gallic chief,

freely elected. Engaged at the time in his disastrous war in the Orient

against Queen Zenobia, your heroic peer, the Emperor yielded. I alone

governed our country. Ruper, an old and tried general in the wars of the

Rhine, was placed in command of the troops. In its undying idolatry for

you, the army wished to keep you in its midst. I was engaged in

developing in Gaul the blessings of peace. Always faithful to the

Christian faith, I did not consider it politic to make a public

confession of my belief, and I concealed from even you, Victoria, my

conversion to a religion whose Pope is in Rome. Since the last five

years Gaul has been prospering at home, and is respected abroad. I

established the seat of my government and of the senate at Bordeaux,

while you remained with the army, which covers our frontier, and is ever

ready to repel either new invasions attempted by the Franks, or any

attack undertaken by the Romans, should the latter attempt to curtail

the complete independence that we enjoy and conquered so dearly. As you

know, Victoria, I always sought inspiration from your eminent wisdom,

either by visiting you in Treves, after you left Mayence, or through

correspondence with you upon the affairs of the country. But I indulge

in no delusions, Victoria; I am proud to admit the truth; it was only

your powerful hand that raised me to headship; it is only your hand that

keeps me there. Yes, from the seclusion of her modest retreat in Treves,

the Mother of the Camps is in fact the Empress of Gaul--despite the

power that I enjoy, I am only your first subject. That rapid glance over

the past was necessary in order to clearly formulate the present--"

"Proceed, Tetrik, I am listening attentively."

"The deplorable death of Victorin and his son, the assassination of

Marion, all these catastrophes tell you upon how slender a thread

elective sovereignty hangs. Gaul is at peace; her brave army is more

devoted to you than it has ever been to any of its generals; it overawes

our enemies; all that our beautiful country now stands in need of, in

order to reach the highest pinnacle of prosperity, is stability. The

country needs an authority that will not be dependent upon the caprice

of an election, which, however intelligent to-day, may be stupid

to-morrow. We need a government that is not personified in a man, ever

at the mercy of those who elected him, or of the dagger of an assassin.

The monarchic institution, based as it is, not upon a man, but upon a

principle, existed in Gaul centuries ago. It alone could to-day impart

to the nation the vigor and prosperity that it lacks. Victoria, you

dispose of the army, I govern the country. Let us join our strength for

a common aim--the insurance of our glorious country's future; let us

join, not our bodies--I am old, while you are still handsome and young,

Victoria--but our souls before a priest of the new religion. Embrace

Christianity, become my wife before God--and proclaim us, yourself

Empress, me Emperor of the Gauls. The army will have but one voice in

favor of elevating you upon a throne--you will reign alone and without

sharing your power with anyone. As to me, you know it, I have no

ambition to subserve. Despite my idle title of Emperor, I shall continue

to be your first vassal. As to my son, we shall adopt him for our

successor to the throne. He is of marriageable age; we shall choose for

him some sovereign alliance--and the monarchy of Gaul will be

established for all time. That, Victoria, was the proposal that I made

to you last night--I repeat it to-day. I have again laid my projects

bare before you and in the interest of our country. Adopt the plan; it

is the fruit of long years of meditation--and Gaul will march at the

head of the nations of the world."

A long silence on the part of my foster-sister followed these words of

her relative. She then replied with the calmness that marked her words

since the entrance of Tetrik into the room:

"It was a wise inspiration that caused me to wish to hear you a second

time, Tetrik. You abjured in favor of the new religion the ancient

religion of our fathers; but almost all Gaul is still loyal to the druid

faith."

"Hence it is that I considered it politic to keep my abjuration a

secret, and in this I have acted in accord with the views of the Pope of

Rome. But if you should accept my offer, and should yourself abjure your

idolatry at our marriage, I shall then loudly proclaim my new belief,

and, according to the opinion of the bishops, our conversion will draw

in its wake the conversion of our people. Moreover I have the promise of

the bishops that they will glorify you as a saint with all the

magnificent pomp of the new Church. And, believe me, Victoria, a power

that is consecrated in the name of God by the Gallic prelates and by the

Pope of Rome, will be clothed in the eyes of the people with almost

divine authority."

"Tell me, Tetrik; you abjured the belief of our fathers in favor of the

new, in favor of the gospel preached by the young man of Nazareth who

was crucified two centuries ago. I have read that gospel. An ancestress

of Schanvoch's witnessed the last days of Jesus, the friend of the slave

and the afflicted. Now, then, nowhere have I found in the gentle and

divine words of the young master of Nazareth aught but exhortations to

renounce wealth, to meekness, to equality among men--and here are you,

a fervent and recent convert, dreaming of royalty! The young man of

Nazareth, so sweet, so tender of the sufferers, the sinners and the

oppressed as he was, nevertheless broke out at times into terrible

threats against the rich, the powerful, the worldly happy--above all and

always he thundered against the princes of the church whom he branded as

infamous hypocrites--and, here are you, a fervent and recent convert,

seeking to place the royalty that you are striving after under the

consecration of just such princes of the church, the bishops! The young

man of Nazareth said to his disciples: 'When you pray, enter into your

closet, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father which is

in secret, and your Father which sees in secret will reward you

openly'--and here are you, a fervent and recent convert, proposing to me

to render our abjuration and prayers in public, pompously and solemnly,

seeing that the bishops are to glorify my conversion in the face of the

world. Truly, my feeble intellect, still closed to the light of the new

faith, is unable to reconcile such shocking contradictions."

"Nothing more simple. The gospel of our Lord--"

"Of what 'Lord' do you speak, Tetrik?"

"Of our Lord Jesus Christ, the son of God, or rather the incarnate God."

"How the times have changed! During his life the young man of Nazareth

did not call himself 'Lord'--far from it; he called himself the son of

God, in the sense that our druid faith teaches us that we are all

children of the same God. And in line with the teachings of our druids

he declared that our spirit, emancipated of its terrestrial bonds,

proceeds to unknown worlds where it animates rejuvenated bodies."

"The times have changed--you are right, Victoria. Taken in an absolute

sense, the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ would be but a weapon of

eternal rebellion in the hands of the poor against the rich, the servant

against his lord, the people against their chiefs--it would be the

negation of all authority. Creeds on the contrary have the mission to

strengthen authority."

"I am aware of that. In the days of their primitive barbarism, and

before they became the sublimest of men, our druids rendered themselves

redoubtable to the ignorant, struck them with terror, and crushed them

under their yoke. But the young man of Nazareth smote the atrocious

knavery when he indignantly denounced the princes of the church saying:

'They bind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men's

shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with one of their

fingers.' All the more, if he is God, should his words be held sacred.

You speak, Tetrik, very much after the fashion of the Pharisees of old,

who caused the young man of Nazareth to be crucified."

"Those are only sentimental views. Cultured minds, like yours, will

understand the true meaning of those bitter criticisms, and the violent

attacks of our Lord against the rich, the powerful and the priests of

his days. His sermons in favor of community of property, his exaggerated

mercifulness towards women of ill fame, the debauched, the prodigals,

the vagabonds--in short, his preference for the dregs of the population

with which he surrounded himself are not the means of government and

authority. The priests and bishops of the new faith alone are able, by

means of their sermons, skilfully to turn off the dangerous current of

the thought of equality among men, of hatred against the mighty, of

dispossessment against the rich, of liberty, of fraternity, of

community of goods, of tolerance for the guilty--a fatal current that

takes its source in certain passages of the gospel, which vulgar minds

wrongfully interpret."

"And yet it is in the name of those generous thoughts that so many

martyrs have died in the past, and are still sacrificing their lives!"

"Alas, yes! Jesus our Lord has remained for them the carpenter of

Nazareth, who was put to death for having defended the poor, the slaves,

the oppressed, the sinners, against those who then enjoyed power; he

promised the former the goods of the latter saying that the day would

come when 'the first would be the last.' It is for that reason that

these martyrs preach with unconquerable heroism the doctrines of Jesus,

the friend of the poor, the enemy of the mighty. The interests of both

the present and the future, accordingly, dictate to you that you accept

my offer. I resume: Take me for your husband; embrace the new faith, as

I did; have yourself and me proclaimed Emperor and Empress; adopt my son

and his posterity. All Gaul will follow our example and become

Christians; we shall heap privileges and wealth upon the bishops, and

they will consecrate in us the most sovereign and absolute authority

ever vested in any emperor or empress!"

At this point, Victoria's voice, that until then was calm and collected,

broke out indignant and threatening:

"Tetrik! The compact that you are proposing to me is

sacrilegious--infamous! Yesterday I thought you were demented--to-day,

when you repeat your proposition and expose to my gaze, even clearer

than you did before, the abysmal depths of your infernal soul, I see in

you a monster of ambition and of felony! At this hour the past lights

up the present before me, and the present lights the future! Blessed be

you, Hesus! I was not alone when this plot was unrolled to my ears! You

inspired me, Oh, Hesus! I wished to have a witness, who, in case of

need, could verify the reality of this monstrous proposal--Victoria

herself would not be believed upon her unsupported testimony when she

uncovers such dark designs! Come, brother--come, Schanvoch!"

At Victoria's call I presented myself, crying:

"Sister, I no longer say as I once did: 'I suspect this man!' To-day I

accuse the criminal!"

"Schanvoch!" answered Tetrik disdainfully, "your accusations are stale.

This is not the first time that such silly words have dropped before my

contempt--"

"I formerly only suspected you, Tetrik," I said determinedly, "of having

by your machinations brought on the death of Victorin and his son, who

was still in his cradle. To-day I accuse you of that horrible plot. I

prefer against you the charge of murder!"

"Take care!" Tetrik answered pale, somber and with a threatening

gesture. "Take care! My power is great--I can annihilate you--"

"Brother," Victoria said to me, "your thought is mine--speak without

fear--I also have power."

"Tetrik," I proceeded, "I once only suspected you of being at the bottom

of Marion's assassination--to-day I accuse you of that crime also!"

"Crazy wretch! Where are the proofs of the charges that you have the

audacity to hurl at me?"

"Oh! You are prudent and skilful as well as patient. You break your

tools in the dark after having used them--"

"Those are idle words," answered Tetrik with icy coolness. "Your proofs,

where are they! I laugh at your impotent threats."

"The proofs!" cried Victoria. "They are embodied in your sacrilegious

propositions. You conceived the project of being the hereditary emperor

of Gaul long before Victorin's death; your proposition of having my

grandson acclaimed the heir of his father's office was a lure meant at

once to lead me off the scent of your designs and to furnish the first

step of the ladder that you meant to climb."

"Victoria, anger is blinding you! What a bungler would I have been--if,

indeed, the ambitious object that I pursued was a hereditary throne for

myself--to advise you to vest the power in your own stock--"

"Aye! For one thing, the principle would have been accepted by the army.

For another, once hereditary power was established for the future, you

would have rid yourself of my son and grandson, in the manner that you

did--by assassination. It is all now clear before me. That cursed

Bohemian girl was your instrument; she was sent to Mayence in order to

seduce my son, in order to drive him with her refusals to the infamous

act that the creature demanded as the price of her favors. The crime

once committed, my son would either be killed by Schanvoch, who was

hastily called back to Mayence that very night, or he would be slain by

the army, which received timely notice and was lashed to fury by your

emissaries--"

"Proofs--proofs--Victoria! Proofs!"

"I have none, yet I state the facts! You managed to have my grandson

killed the same night--torn from my arms. My stock is extinguished. Your

first step towards empire was marked in blood. You thereupon declined

power, and proposed the elevation of Marion. Oh! I admit it! Before that

prodigy of infernal cunning, my suspicions, which were for a moment

aroused, melted away. Two months after his acclamation as Chief of Gaul,

Marion fell under the sword of an execrable assassin, your instrument

again--"

"Proofs!" broke in Tetrik impassibly. "Furnish the proofs!"

"I have none, yet I state the facts. You remained the only available

candidate for the office--Victorin, his son and Marion were killed.

Thereupon, I unwittingly became your accomplice. I urged you to accept

the government of the country. You triumphed, but only in part; you

governed; but, you said it, you were but the first subject of the Mother

of the Camps. Oh! I perceive it clearly! The hour has come when my power

stands in your way. The army, Gaul, accepted Tetrik for their chief upon

my request. It was not they who chose you. With one word I can break

you, the same as I raised you to the place that you now are in. Blinded

by ambition you judged my heart after your own; you thought me capable

of wishing to exchange my influence over the army for the crown of an

empress, and of enthroning my stock. You have entered into a dark

compact with the Pope and bishops, looking to the eventual brutification

and enslavement of this proud Gallic people which freely chooses its

chiefs, and remains faithful to the religion of our fathers. Why,

centuries ago this people broke the yoke of kingship through the sacred

hands of Ritha-Gaur, and yet you now scheme to impose upon it a hated

domination by allying your self with the new Church! Very well, I,

Victoria, the Mother of the Camps, accuse you before the people in arms

of intriguing for the subjugation of Gaul! I accuse you of having

denied the faith of our fathers! I accuse you of entering into a secret

alliance with the bishops! I accuse you of wishing to usurp the imperial

crown and to render it hereditary in your family! I shall bring these

charges against you before the people in arms, and shall pronounce you a

traitor, a renegade, a murderer, a usurper! I shall demand on the spot

that you be tried by the senate, and punished with death for your

crimes!"

The vehemence of the accusations of my foster-sister notwithstanding,

Tetrik maintained his habitual composure. For a moment he had dropped

the mask and flown at me with threats. Now he was himself again. Raising

his hands heavenward, he answered with the most unctuous voice that he

could summon:

"Victoria, I considered the project that I submitted to you advantageous

to Gaul--let us drop it. You accuse me; I am ready to answer for my acts

before the senate and the army. Should my death, decreed at your

instigation, be of any service to my country, I shall not refuse to you

the few days of life that are still left to me. I shall await the

decision of the senate. Adieu, Victoria. The future will tell which of

us two, you or I, understood the country's interests better, and loved

Gaul with the wiser love."

Saying this he took a step toward the door. I dashed forward ahead of

him, barred his passage and said:

"You shall not go out! You mean to flee from the punishment that is due

to your crimes--"

Tetrik looked me from head to feet with icy haughtiness, and half

turning towards Victoria, said:

"What! In your house, violence is attempted upon an old man! Upon a

relative who comes to you unsuspecting--"

"I shall respect that which is considered sacred in all

countries--hospitality," answered the Mother of the Camps. "You came to

me freely, you shall go out freely."

"Sister!" I cried. "Be careful! Your confidence has proved fatal once

before--"

Victoria interrupted me with a gesture, and said bitterly:

"You are right--my confidence has been fatal to the country; it weighs

upon my heart with remorse--but fear not this time."

Saying this she rang the bell. Mora entered almost immediately. Her

mistress whispered a few words in her ear and the servant quickly went

out again.

"Tetrik," Victoria proceeded, "I have sent for Captain Paul and several

officers. They will come here for you. They will accompany you to your

lodging--you shall not leave the place but to appear before your

judges."

"My judges! Who are to be my judges?"

"The army will appoint a tribunal--that tribunal will judge you."

"I can be tried only by the senate."

"If the military tribunal finds you guilty, you will then be sent before

the senate; if the military tribunal acquits you, you will be free. Only

divine vengeance will then be able to reach you."

Mora re-entered the room to inform her mistress that her orders were

issued to Captain Paul. Afterwards I remembered, but, alas! too late,

that Mora exchanged a few words in a low voice with Tetrik who sat near

the door.

"Schanvoch," Victoria said to me, "did you hear well the conversation

that I had with Tetrik?"

"Perfectly. I lost not one word."

"Transcribe it faithfully."

And turning to the Chief of Gaul she said:

"That will be the indictment that I shall bring against you. It shall be

read before the military tribunal that is to sit in judgment upon you."

"Victoria," Tetrik replied calmly, "listen to the advice of an old man,

who once was and still is your best friend. It is an easy thing to

accuse a man, but to prove his crime is a more difficult affair--"

"Hold your tongue, detestable hypocrite!" cried Victoria angrily. "Drive

me not to extremes--"

And clasping her hands:

"Hesus! Give me the strength to be equitable towards this man. Calm down

in me, Oh, Hesus! the ebullitions of anger that might unsettle my

judgment!"

Having heard steps behind the door, Mora opened it, and returned to her

mistress, saying:

"Captain Paul has arrived."

Victoria made a sign to Tetrik to leave the room. He stepped out heaving

a profound sigh and saying in penetrating accents:

"Lord! Lord! Dissipate the blindness of my enemies! Pardon them, as I

pardon them!"

CHAPTER VII.

THE VISION OF VICTORIA.

When the room was cleared of the presence of Tetrik the Mother of the

Camps said to her servant, just as the latter was about to leave close

upon the heels of Tetrik:

"Mora, my breast is afire. Bring me a cup of water with some honey, to

cool me and slake my thirst."

The servant hurriedly nodded her head and vanished with Tetrik, who

lingered for a moment at the threshold.

"Oh, my brother!" murmured Victoria despondently when we were again

alone. "My long struggle with that man has exhausted me--the sight of

evil lames my energies--I feel broken--"

"Want of sleep, excitement, the horror that the sight of Tetrik inspired

you with--all this has rendered you feverish. Take a little rest,

sister; I shall instantly transcribe your conversation with the man.

This very evening justice will be done."

"You are right; I think that if I could sleep a while I should feel

relieved. Go, brother, but do not leave the house."

"Would you like Sampso to keep you company?"

"No, I prefer to be alone."

Mora re-entered. She carried a cup filled with the beverage that her

mistress had ordered. The latter took the cup and drained its contents

with avidity. Leaving my foster-sister to the care of her servant, I

went back to my room in order to reproduce the words of Tetrik

accurately. I was just about finishing the task, which took me nearly

two hours, when Mora dashed in pale and frightened.

"Schanvoch!" she cried panting for breath. "Come! Come quick! Drop your

writing! Hasten to my mistress!"

"What is the matter! What has happened?"

"My mistress. Oh! Woe! Woe! Come quick!"

"Victoria! Does any danger threaten her?" I cried, hurrying to the

apartment of my foster-sister, while Mora followed me, saying:

"She sent me out of the room--she wanted to be alone. A minute ago I

went in--and, woe is me! I saw my poor mistress--"

"Finish speaking--you saw Victoria--"

"I saw her lying on her bed--her eyes open--but they were fixed--she

seemed dead--"

I shall never forget the frightful sight that struck my eyes as I

stepped into Victoria's chamber. As Mora said, she lay stretched upon

her bed motionless, livid, like a corpse. Her fixed, yet sparkling eyes,

seemed to have sunk into their orbits; her features, painfully

contracted, were of the cold whiteness of marble. A sinister thought

flashed through my mind like lightning--Victoria was dying of poison!

"Mora!" I cried throwing myself upon my knees beside the couch of the

Mother of the Camps. "Send immediately for the druid physician, and run

and tell Sampso to come here!"

The servant rushed out. I took one of Victoria's hands. It was limp and

icy.

"Sister! It is I!" I cried--"Schanvoch!"

"Brother," she murmured.

As I heard her muffled, feeble voice, methought the answer proceeded

from the bottom of a tomb. A moment later, her eyes, that until then

were fixed, turned slowly towards me. The divine intelligence that

formerly illumined the beautiful, august and sweet look of my

foster-sister seemed extinguished. Nevertheless, by degrees, she

recovered consciousness, and said:

"Is it you--brother? I am dying--"

Tossing her head painfully from one side to the other as if seeking

something, she made an effort to raise her arm; it dropped immediately

beside her; she then proceeded to say:

"See yonder large trunk--open it--you will find in it--a bronze

casket--bring it to me--"

I did as I was bid, and deposited a rather heavy bronze casket near her

on the couch. At that moment Sampso, whom Mora notified of Victoria's

condition, came in.

"Sampso," said Victoria, "take this casket--take it away with you--keep

it carefully locked--open it in three days--the key is tied to the lid."

And addressing me:

"Did you transcribe Tetrik's conversation with me?"

"I was just finishing it when Mora ran in to me."

"Sampso, take that casket away to your room immediately, and bring me

the parchment on which Schanvoch has just been writing. Go, we have not

a minute to spare!"

Sampso obeyed and left the room distracted. I remained alone with

Victoria.

"Brother," she said to me, "every minute is precious. Listen to what I

have to say to you without interrupting me. I feel that I am dying; I

think I know the hand that smote me, without her being herself aware of

what she was doing. This crime caps a long series of dark and felonious

deeds. My death is at this moment a grave danger to Gaul. We must avert

the danger. You are known in the army--my confidence in you is

known--call the officers and soldiers together--inform them of Tetrik's

schemes. The conversation that you transcribed will be signed by me, in

order to verify your words. My life is ebbing fast. Oh! If I but had the

time to gather here around my death-bed the officers of the army who

this very evening will surround my funeral pyre. Upon that pyre I wish

you to lay the arms of my father, my husband and Victorin, also the

cradle of my little grandson!"

"Schanvoch!" cried Sampso precipitately entering the room, "The

parchments that you left upon the table--have disappeared. But I saw

them lying on your desk when Mora came in to call me. They must have

been taken away since."

"The parchments were taken away! Oh! What a misfortune to Gaul!"

murmured Victoria. "What mysterious hand is it that can thus penetrate

my house? Woe, woe is Gaul! Hesus! Omnipotent god! You call me to the

unknown worlds, where, perhaps, we may hover over this world that we

leave for yonder ones. Hesus! Am I to leave this earth without the

assurance of the welfare of the country I love so much? The future

terrifies me! Oh, Omnipotent! Allow your spirit to enlighten me at this

supreme moment! Hesus, have you heard me?" added Victoria in a louder

voice, half rising on her couch; and with inspired eyes she proceeded:

"What do I see? Is this the future that unveils itself before my eyes?

Who is that woman--so pale, lying prostrate? Her robe is

blood-bespattered. Also her chaplet of oaken leaves has drops of blood;

the sword, that her virile hand once held, lies broken at her side. One

of those savage Franks, his head ornamented with a crown, holds the

noble woman under his knees; he looks with mild and timid mien at a man

splendidly arrayed as a pontiff. Hesus! The bleeding woman--is Gaul! The

barbarian who kneels down upon her--is a Frankish king! The pontiff--is

the Bishop of Rome! Blood flows! a stream of blood! it carries in its

course, to the light of the flames of conflagrations, a mass of ruins,

thousands of corpses! Oh! the woman--Gaul, I see her again wan, worn,

clad in rags, the iron collar of servitude on her neck; she drags

herself on her knees; bending under a heavy burden! The Frankish king

and the Roman bishop quicken the march of enslaved Gaul with their

whips! Another torrent of blood; still the glamour of conflagration. Oh,

Hesus! Enough! Enough ruins and massacre! Heaven be praised!" cried

Victoria, whose face seemed for a moment to beam with divine splendor.

"The noble woman has risen to her feet! Behold her--more beautiful,

prouder than ever before! Her head is wreathed in a crown of fresh

oak-leaves! In one hand she holds a sheaf of grain, grapes and flowers;

in the other a red flag,[4] surmounted by the Gallic cock. Superbly she

tramples under foot the fragments of her collar of slavery, the crown of

the Frankish kings and that of the Roman pontiffs! Yes, that woman, free

at last, stately, glorious and fruitful--she is Gaul! Hesus! Hesus! Be

kind to her! Enable her to break the yoke of Kings and Pontiffs! Lead

her to freedom, glorious and fruitful without being compelled to reach

the goal by wading from century to century through those seas of tears,

those seas of blood that affright me!"

These last words wholly exhausted Victoria's strength. Still she made

one more effort in her divine exaltation. She raised her eyes to heaven,

crossed her arms over her breast, heaved a long sigh, and fell back upon

her couch.

The Mother of the Camps, Victoria the Great, was dead!

While she spoke I made superhuman efforts to control my despair. When,

however, I saw her expire, I became dizzy, my knees sank under me, my

strength, my thoughts fled. I lost consciousness, but I still recollect

the sound of many voices and a great tumult in the contiguous apartment

whence I heard distinctly the words:

"Tetrik, the Chief of Gaul, is in his death agony--he is dying of

poison--"

CHAPTER VIII.

CRIME TRIUMPHANT.

For several days I lay at death's door, constantly attended, my son, by

your second mother. About two weeks passed after the death of Victoria,

before I was able to collect and co-ordinate my recollections, and speak

with Sampso of our irreparable loss. The last words that struck my ears

when, broken with grief, I wholly lost consciousness beside the

death-bed of my foster-sister were these:

"Tetrik, the Chief of Gaul, is in his death agony--he is dying of

poison."

Indeed Tetrik was, or rather seemed to have been, poisoned at the same

time as Victoria. He had hardly stepped into the house of the general of

the army, when he seemed seized with severe pangs. When two weeks later

I myself returned to life, the life of Tetrik was still despaired of.

I must admit I was stupefied at the strange information; my reason

refused to believe the man guilty of a crime of which he was himself a

victim.

Victoria's death threw the city of Treves, the army, and later the whole

nation into consternation. The funeral of the august Mother of the Camps

seemed to be the funeral of Gaul herself. In her sudden taking-off

people saw the presage of new evils to the country. The Gallic senate

decreed the apotheosis of Victoria. It was celebrated at Treves in the

midst of universal sorrow and tears. The pompous solemnity of the druid

cult, the chant of the bards, imparted imposing splendor to the

ceremony. Embalmed and lying on an ivory couch covered with cloth of

gold, Victoria lay in state to the veneration of the citizens who

crowded in mass to the house of mourning. The place was constantly

invaded by that army of the Rhine of which Victoria was truly the

mother. Finally her remains were placed upon the pyre, agreeable to the

custom of our fathers. Incense rose along the streets of Treves, crossed

by the funeral procession, which was headed by the bards singing on

their golden harps the praises of the illustrious woman. The pyre was

then set on fire and disappeared in a sheet of flame.

A medal, struck on the very day of the funeral ceremony, represents, on

its obverse, the head of the Gallic heroine, casqued as Minerva, and on

its reverse, an eagle with outstretched wings flying into space with its

eyes fixed upon the sun, the symbol of the druid faith--the soul leaving

this world and flying towards the unknown world where it is to be clad

in a new body. Under the symbol the ordinary formula was engraved:

"Consecration," followed below by these words:

VICTORIA, EMPEROR.

By that virile appellation Gaul immortalized in her enthusiasm the

glorious Mother of the Camps, and wreathed her memory in a title that

she had steadily declined during life--a life that was at once modest

and sublime, and wholly consecrated to her father, her husband, her son

and to the glory and welfare of her country.

My perplexity was profound. The poisoning of Tetrik, who, as it was

claimed, still struggled with death, the disappearance of the

parchments that contained the traitor's conversation with Victoria, and

which she was thereby prevented from signing before dying--all these

circumstances rendered the prosecution of the traitor difficult, if not

impossible. An accusation lodged by me, an obscure soldier, against

Tetrik, who survived as the supreme Chief of Gaul, and whose power was

now all the greater, seeing it was no longer counterbalanced by the vast

influence of the Mother of the Camps, could not lead to favorable

results. Before deciding upon a final course in the matter, I waited for

my shattered frame and mind to recover their former vigor.

Three days after Victoria's death, and obedient to the last wishes of

the Mother of the Camps, Sampso opened the casket that Victoria gave

her. In it my wife found a last touching proof of the thoughtfulness of

my foster-sister. There was a parchment with these words inscribed in

her own hand:

"We shall never part until death," did we, my good brother

Schanvoch, often say to each other; it is your wish, it is mine;

but if I am called away before you to live in the unknown worlds,

where we shall one day meet again, I shall feel happy on the day

when we shall meet again elsewhere than here, at the thought that

you have gone back to Brittany, the cradle of your family.

The Roman conquest plundered your family of its ancestral fields.

Free once more, Gaul should, in the name of right or by force, have

revanquished the heritage of your children from the descendants of

the Romans. I know not what will be our country's condition, at the

time of our separation. But, hap what hap may, there are three

means by which you will be able to revindicate your just

heritage--right, money or force. You have the right, you have the

force, you have the money--you will find in this casket the

sufficient sum with which to buy back, if need be, the fields that

belonged to your family, and thenceforth live happy and free near

the sacred stones of Karnak, the witnesses of the heroic death of

your ancestress Hena, the Virgin of the Isle of Sen.

You have often shown to me the pious relics of your family--I wish

to join to them a souvenir of my own. You will find in this casket

a bronze lark. I wore that ornament on my casque the day of the

battle of Riffenel, at which I saw my son Victorin flash his virgin

sword. I wish that you and your family may continue to keep this

memento of our fraternal friendship. It is left to you by your

foster-sister Victoria; she is of your family--did she not drink

the milk of your brave mother?

When you read these lines, my good brother Schanvoch, I shall have

been re-born beyond, near those whom I have loved.

Persevere in your fidelity to Gaul and the faith of our fathers.

You have approved yourself worthy of your family. May your

descendants approve themselves worthy of you, and write, without

having to blush, the history of their lives, as Joel, the brenn of

the tribe of Karnak, has desired them to do.

VICTORIA.

Need I tell you, my son, how deeply I was moved by such solicitude on

her part? I was at the time steeped in gloom and absorbed by the fear of

the grave events that might follow in the wake of Victoria's death. I

remained almost insensible to the hope of speedily returning to

Brittany, in order to end my days there, on the spot where my ancestors

lived. When my health was completely restored, I repaired to the general

who commanded the army of the Rhine. An old soldier himself, he was

certain to appreciate better than anyone else the serious dangers that

Gaul remained exposed to with Victoria's death. I frankly told him the

schemes that Tetrik was hatching; I also expressed to him my suspicions

regarding the poisoning of my foster-sister. The general made me the

following answer:

"The crimes and plots that you accuse Tetrik of are so monstrous, they

would bespeak so infernal a soul, that I would hardly believe them, even

if they were attested by Victoria herself, our august mother, whom we

can never forget. Schanvoch, you are a brave and honest soldier, but

your deposition will not suffice to bring the Chief of Gaul to the bar

of the senate and the army. Besides, Tetrik is himself about to die;

even his own poisoning proves to a certainty that he is innocent of

Victoria's death. You would be the only witness against the Chief of

Gaul, who has been loved and venerated up to now, seeing that he has

always conducted himself as the first subject of Victoria, the real

empress of the nation. Take my advice, Schanvoch, invigorate your

spirit, that the sudden death of this august woman has so severely

shaken. It may be that, shocked by the disaster, your judgment is led

astray, and mistakes vague apprehensions for facts. Until now, Tetrik

has governed Gaul wisely, thanks to the inspiration of our august

Mother. If he dies, he will be regretted by us; if he survives the

mysterious crime which he has himself narrowly escaped, we shall

continue to honor the man who was pointed out to us by Victoria herself

as the fit object of our choice."

The general's answer proved to me that I would never succeed in causing

the senate and the army to share my suspicions and convictions, both

being so thoroughly prejudiced in favor of the Chief of Gaul.

Tetrik did not die. Hearing of his father's predicament, his son hurried

to Treves, and took his father in charge. When he became convalescent,

Tetrik held lengthy interviews with the senators and the chiefs of the

army. He manifested on the subject of Victoria's death so profound and,

to all appearance, sincere a grief; he honored her memory in so pious a

manner by a funeral ceremony at which he glorified the illustrious

woman, whose omnipotent hand, he said, had so long supported him, and to

whom he felt proud of owing his elevation; in short, he seemed so

heart-stricken when, pale, worn with his illness, frequently breaking

out into tears, and leaning on the arm of his son, he dragged himself

with unsteady step to the sad solemnity, that he conquered the affection

of the people and the army more completely than ever by the last homage

that he rendered to the memory of Victoria.

I then realized how utterly futile it would be to press my accusations

against Tetrik. With my heart rent at seeing the fate of Gaul in the

hands of a man whom I knew for a traitor, I decided to leave Treves with

you, my son, and Sampso, your second mother, and repair to Brittany, the

country of our family's nativity, there to seek some consolation for my

sorrows.

Nevertheless I felt bound to fulfil what I considered a sacred duty. By

dint of constantly interrogating my memory on the subject of the

conversation between Tetrik and Victoria, I succeeded in transcribing it

a second time, word for word. Of this I made a second copy, and on the

eve of my departure took the first draft to the general of the army.

"You are of the opinion," I said to him, "that my reason wanders--keep

this narrative--I hope the future may not prove to you the truth of my

accusation."

The general took the parchment, and dismissed me with the compassionate

mien that is bestowed upon people whose mind is deranged.

CHAPTER IX.

KIDDA, THE BOHEMIAN GIRL.

On leaving the general of the army I walked home disconsolate. Crime was

triumphant. I returned home, to the house of my foster-sister, where I

remained until my departure for Brittany. I was engaged with Sampso

packing up the last articles needed on our journey, when the following

unlooked-for events happened on that night.

Mora, the servant, had also remained in the house. The woman's grief at

her mistress's death touched my heart. On the night that I am writing

about, my son, while engaged with your second mother in the preparations

for our journey, we found that we needed another trunk. I went

downstairs in search of one into a room that was separated from Mora's

chamber by a rough wooden partition. It was past midnight. Upon entering

the room where the trunk was, I noticed, to my no slight astonishment,

that a bright light shone from the servant's room through the clefts of

the partition. Fearing that the woman's bed might have taken fire while

she slept, I hastened to peep through the clefts in the boards. I

bounded back with astonishment, but quickly returned to my place of

observation.

Mora was contemplating herself in a little silver mirror by the light of

two lamps, the gleam of which had first attracted my attention. But it

was no longer Mora the Mauritanian; at least, her bronze complexion had

disappeared! I now saw her a pale brunette, coiffed in a rich gold band

ornamented with precious stones. The woman smiled at herself in the

glass. She put a long pearl earring to one of her ears, and--strangest

of all--she wore a corsage of some silvery material and a scarlet skirt.

I recognized Kidda, the Bohemian girl.

Alas! I had seen the creature only once, and then only by the light of

the moon, on that fateful night, when, suddenly recalled to Mayence by

the mysterious notification given me by my traveling companion, I slew

Victorin in my house, together with my beloved wife Ellen.

Rage followed close upon the heels of my stupor--a horrible suspicion

flashed through my mind. I bolted from the inside the room in which I

was; with a violent thrust of my shoulder--rage multiplied my strength a

hundredfold--I broke down one of the boards of the partition, and

suddenly I stood before the eyes of the startled Bohemian. With one hand

I seized her and threw her upon her knees, with the other I took one of

the two heavy iron lamps, and raising it over the woman's head I cried:

"I shall shatter your skull if you do not immediately confess your

crimes!"

Kidda believed she read the decree of her death in my face. She grew

livid and murmured:

"Kill me not! I shall speak!"

"You are Kidda, the Bohemian girl?"

"Yes--I am Kidda."

"You were formerly at Mayence--and, as the price of your favors, you

exacted of Victorin that he dishonor my wife Ellen?"

"Yes--that is so!"

"You were acting under orders of Tetrik?"

"No, I never spoke to him."

"Whose orders were you, then, following?"

"Of Tetrik's equerry."

"The man is cautious," I thought to myself. "And the soldier who on that

fateful night announced to me that a heinous crime was being perpetrated

in my house--do you know who he was?"

"It was Captain Marion's companion in arms, he was a former blacksmith,

like Marion."

"Did Tetrik also know that soldier?"

"No, it was Tetrik's equerry who had secret conferences with him at

Mayence."

"And where is that soldier now?"

"He died."

"After Tetrik employed him to assassinate Captain Marion?"

The girl looked puzzled.

"Did Tetrik cause him to be put to death? Answer!"

"I think so!"

"And it is that same equerry who sent you to this house under the guise

of Mora, the Mauritanian? Was it in order to disguise yourself that you

painted your face?"

"Yes--that is all so."

"You were to spy upon your mistress, were you not?--and then poison her?

Speak! If you believe in a God--if your infernal soul dares at this

supreme moment to implore his help--you have but a minute to

live--Speak!"

"Have pity upon me!"

"Confess your crime--you committed it under orders of Tetrik? Speak!"

"Yes, I was ordered by Tetrik."

"When--how did he give you the order to execute that crime?"

"When I entered the room the second time--after I was sent to bring

Captain Paul, who was to arrest Tetrik."

"And the poison--you poured it into the drink that you were to present

to your mistress?"

"Yes--it happened that way."

"And on that same day," I added, my recollections now thronging to my

mind, "when I sent you to my wife, you purloined a parchment that lay on

my table and that I had written upon?"

"Yes, Tetrik ordered me to--he heard Victoria refer to the parchment."

"Why, after the crime was committed, did you stay in this house down to

to-day?"

"So as to awaken no suspicions."

"What induced you to poison your mistress?"

"The gift of these jewels that I was entertaining myself with putting on

when you broke in upon me. I thought I was alone!"

"Tetrik came himself near dying of the poison--do you believe his

equerry is guilty of that crime?"

"Every poison has its counter-poison," answered the Bohemian with a

sinister smile. "He who poisons others, removes suspicion from himself

by drinking from the same cup, and he is safe through the

counter-poison."

The woman's answer was a flash-light to me. By an infernal ruse, and

doubtlessly guaranteed against death, thanks to an antidote, Tetrik had

swallowed enough poison to produce in him the identical symptoms that

marked Victoria's agony and thus seem to share her fate.

To seize a scarf that lay upon the bed, and, despite the resistance that

she offered, to tie her hands firmly together and to lock her up in one

of the lower rooms, was the affair of but an instant. I ran back to the

general of the army. After finally succeeding in being admitted to his

presence--a difficult thing owing to the hour of the night--I repeated

to him the confession that Kidda had just made to me. He shrugged his

shoulders impatiently and said:

"Ever this same, rooted, thought--your mind must be wholly deranged. The

idea of having me waked up to hear such crazy man's stories. Moreover,

you have chosen ill the hour to prefer such charges against the

venerable Tetrik. He left Treves last evening for Bordeaux."

The departure of Tetrik was a heavy blow to my last hopes. Nevertheless,

I pressed the general with such insistence, I spoke to him with such

earnestness and coherence, that he consented to order one of his

officers to accompany me back to the house, and take the Bohemian girl's

confession in writing. He and I returned hurriedly to the house. I

opened the door of the chamber in which I had left Kidda with her hands

tied. She was gone! She must have gnawed at the scarf with her teeth,

and fled by one of the windows that now stood open and that looked into

the garden. In my hurry and the seething confusion of my brain I had

omitted to guard against the chances of the woman's escape by that

issue.

"Poor Schanvoch!" said the officer to me with deep pity. "Your grief

makes you see visions--be careful, or you will go crazy, altogether!"

And without caring to listen to me any longer he left.

The will of God be done! I now renounced all hope of uncovering the

crimes of Tetrik. The next day I left the city of Treves with you and

Sampso, and took the road for Brittany.

* * * * *

You will read, alas! with no little grief and apprehension, my son, the

few lines with which I shall close this narrative. You will see how our

old Gaul, after having fully reacquired her freedom by dint of three

centuries of continuous struggle, after having become great and powerful

under the influence of Victoria, was again to fall, not, it is true,

completely under the yoke, but at least enfeoffed to the Roman Emperors

through the infamous treachery of Tetrik.

Finding his projects of marriage and usurpation thwarted by the Mother

of the Camps, the monster had her poisoned. She alone, had she consented

to abjure her faith and contract a union with him, could have cleared

the path for him to reach the hereditary throne of Gaul. With Victoria

dead, he realized the futility of persevering along that route.

Moreover, he soon felt that, being no longer sustained by the wisdom and

sovereign influence of that august woman, the people's affection for him

was visibly ebbing. Seeing that with every day he lost some of his

former prestige, and foreseeing his speedy fall, he began to cast about

for the commission of one of the two acts of treason that I had long ago

suspected him of contemplating. He labored in the dark to reduce Gaul,

after the country had acquired its complete independence, back to the

level of a dependency of the Roman Emperors. Long in advance, and by

means of a thousand and one covert schemes, he sowed the germs of civil

discord in the country. By these means Gaul's powers of resistance were

weakened. He succeeded in re-kindling the old jealousies between

province and province that had long been allayed. By means of

deliberately practiced acts of favoritism and of injustice, he incited

violent rivalries between the generals and also between the several army

corps. When matters were ripe for the deed of treason he secretly wrote

to Aurelian, the Roman Emperor:

"The favorable moment for an attack upon Gaul has arrived. You will

prevail easily over a people that is weakened by internal dissensions,

and an army, one division of which is jealous of the other. I shall

notify you in advance of how the Gallic troops are distributed, and also

of their moves, in order to insure the prospects of your triumph."

The two armies met on the banks of the Marne on the wide plain of

Chalon. Agreeable to his promise, and acting in concert with the Roman

general, Tetrik allowed the corps that he led to be cut off from the

rest of the army. The Gallic legions of the Rhine fought with their

wonted intrepidity, but it was of no avail. Their movements being known

in advance by the enemy and overpowered by numbers, they were finally

cut to pieces. Tetrik and his son took refuge in the enemy's camp. Our

army being out of the way, and our country divided against itself, as it

had never been before even during the darkest days of our history,

victory was rendered an easy matter to the Romans. After re-enjoying

absolute freedom for many a year, Gaul became a Roman province once

more. As Caesar had done before him, in order to glorify the great

event, the Emperor Aurelian made a solemn entry into the Roman capital.

All the captives, gathered by that emperor in the course of his long

wars in Asia, marched before his chariot. Among these the queen of the

Orient was seen, the heroine who emulated Victoria--Zenobia. She was

loaded with golden chains riveted to the gold collar that she wore

around her neck. Behind Zenobia marched Tetrik, the last Chief of Gaul

before the country relapsed into a province of Rome. Tetrik and his son

marched free and with heads erect, despite their infamous treachery.

They wore long purple mantles over silk tunics and breeches. They

represented in the procession the recent submission of the Gauls to

Aurelian the Emperor.

Alas! my son, the history of our fathers will teach you that one day,

three hundred years ago, another Gaul also marched before the triumphal

chariot of a Roman Emperor, Caesar. That Gaul did not march in brilliant

array, with audacious mien and with smiles for his vanquisher. That

captive was loaded with chains, he was clad in rags, and was hardly able

to walk; he was that day taken out of the dungeon where he had

languished four years after having defended the freedom of Gaul inch by

inch against the victorious armies of the great Caesar. That captive,

one of the most heroic martyrs of our country and our independence, was

called Vercingetorix, the Chief of the Hundred Valleys.

After the triumphal march of Caesar, the head of the valiant defender of

Gaul was cut off.

After the triumphal march of Aurelian, Tetrik, the renegade who

delivered his country to the foreigner, was led with pomp to a splendid

palace, the price of his sacrilegious treason.

Let not the contrast cause you to despair of virtue, my son. The justice

of Hesus is eternal. Traitors will receive their punishment.

EPILOGUE.

The narrative of my father Amael's great-grandfather Schanvoch on the

events that transpired in Gaul--after the death of Victoria the Great,

during the time that, living retiredly in Brittany on the fields of our

ancestors that he bought back from a Roman colonist, he quietly spent

his life with his son Alguen and his second wife Sampso--ends here.

While it is true that Gaul was again a province of Rome, nevertheless,

all the practical franchises, that we reconquered so dearly by

innumerable insurrections, and paid for with the blood of our fathers,

have remained to us. None has dared, none will dare to deprive us of

them. We shall preserve our laws and customs; we shall enjoy our full

rights as citizens. Our incorporation with the Empire, the impost that

we pay into the fisc, and our name of "Roman Gaul"--these are the only

evidences of our dependence. Such a chain may not be heavy; but, light

as it be, a chain it is. I doubt not that some day we shall be able to

break it. The apprehensions that weighed upon my great-great-grandfather

Schanvoch's mind and that continue to weigh upon mine do not arise from

that quarter. No! The dangers that we apprehend--if faith is to be

attached to the prediction made by Victoria upon her death-bed; the

danger, that has filled us with dread for the future, rises from the

once more swelling number of the Frankish hordes on the other side of

the Rhine, and in the dark machinations of the bishops of the new

religion.

My great-great-grandfather Schanvoch died peaceably in our house,

situated near the sacred stones of Karnak. He left the narrative that he

wrote, and the casque's lark, given him by Victoria, together with the

previous narratives of our family and the relics that accompany them, to

his son Alguen. After a long and peaceful life Alguen died, three

hundred and forty years after our ancestress Genevieve saw Jesus of

Nazareth perish on the cross. Alguen's son Roderik, my grandfather,

inherited from his father both our family records and relics, and a

quiet, peaceful and contented life, all of which he bequeathed to his

son, my father Amael, who in turn bequeathed them to me, Gildas.

I then, Gildas, make this entry to-day in our family annals three

hundred and seventy-five years after the death of Jesus. I feel sad on

this occasion. My father had intended to add a few words to our family

annals. He postponed doing so from day to day, seeing there was nothing

that he desired to make particular mention of to our descendants, his

life being the uneventful one of a quiet, industrious and obscure

husbandman. Two days ago my father died. He died in our own house, near

the stones of Karnak, after a short illness.

The frightful predictions of Victoria, the illustrious foster-sister of

my ancestor Schanvoch, have not been verified. May they never be! Gaul

continues a dependence of the Roman Emperors. Occasionally a traveler

reaches these parts, penetrating into these remote regions of our old

Armorica. From them we have learned that, in some of the other provinces

there have been several popular uprisings of considerable strength and

generally called "Bagaudies." These uprisings must have taken place

shortly after the death of my ancestor Schanvoch. Brittany has remained

free from the revolts of the "Bagauders." The region enjoys profound

tranquility. The impost that we pay into the emperor's fisc is not too

heavy. We live peacefully and free.

Several of our ancestors, during the darksome days of their enslavement

to Rome, and when they were steeped in ignorance and misery, recorded on

our family parchments that such was the leaden uniformity of their days,

spent by them from dawn to dusk, in oppressive labors, that they had

nothing to say except: "I was born, I have lived and I shall die in the

sorrows of slavery." May it please the gods that the happiness of the

generations that are to follow me be in turn, so uniform, that each of

my descendants may, as I do now, have nothing to add to our family

chronicles but these lines with which I shall close my narrative:

"I have lived happy, peaceful and obscure in our Armorican Brittany

cultivating our ancestral fields with the help of my family. I shall

depart from this world without fear or regret when it will please Hesus

to call me away to live again in yonder unknown worlds."

I am now aged eighteen years. The family relics in my possession consist

of Hena's gold sickle, Guilhern's little brass bell, Sylvest's iron

collar, Genevieve's silver cross, and the casque's lark of Schanvoch.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES

[1] The Frankish chiefs, at the time of the conquest, daubed their hair

with tallow mixed with crushed limestone, to make their hair a glaring

reddish-yellow. Such was the beauty of the period.

[2] Ardent, or Fiery. See "The Brass Bell," the second work of this

series.

[3] For the source of these recollections, see the third volume of this

series, entitled "The Iron Collar."

[4] The color of the Gallic emblem was crimson red.