The Blacksmith's Hammer; or, The Peasant Code: A Tale of the Grand Monarch

CHAPTER IX.
THE PEASANTS' DEFEAT

Mademoiselle Plouernel entered the apartment walking slowly. She looked fresher, more beautiful than ever. She was dressed in white. The old equerry bowed respectfully and said to her, who upon seeing him, uttered a cry of surprise:

"I did not hurry to present myself before mademoiselle because the tidings that I bring are of the saddest."

"Leave us alone, Marion," said Mademoiselle Plouernel to her nurse. "I must see Du Buisson privately for a moment."

Marion left the room, and Bertha kindly addressed the equerry:

"I am all the sorrier for the trouble I have put you to, Du Buisson, seeing that it was to prove fruitless;" and seating herself, the young girl added: "Do not remain standing; you must feel tired after your long journey."

Out of deference for his mistress the old man hesitated to obey. Bertha repeated:

"Take a seat; I want it."

Du Buisson sat down. Bertha proceeded:

"Then you bring me back my letter?"

"Here it is, mademoiselle," answered the old man. "I could not find the addressee," and taking a letter out of his wallet, he passed it over to Bertha, who laid the folded and sealed paper on a table beside her, saying:

"So then you found it impossible to ascertain the whereabouts of Monsieur Nominoë Lebrenn? Could you gather no information concerning him?"

"None, mademoiselle! When I left Mezlean I learned that the troop of insurgent peasants took the road to Rennes, was greatly augmented by contingents from the parishes which it traversed, and must have numbered about twenty thousand men, more or less well armed. It was a veritable army. Monsieur Nominoë Lebrenn, his father and Monsieur Serdan had brought the body under considerable disciplinary order. Nevertheless, all their efforts to the contrary, not a few disorderly acts were indulged in at the castles and rectories. The peasant army moved all the while towards Rennes. I hoped to encounter it at Guemenee. But there I learned that envoys of Monsieur the Duke of Chaulnes, Governor of Brittany, had arrived at that town ahead of the insurgents and announced to the inhabitants that the new royal taxes were repealed, that the parliament of Brittany was to assemble at Vannes, that it would register the Peasant Code, that the vassals also were to be exonerated from paying the royal taxes, and that thenceforth they were all to be protected against any further extortions and maltreatment by the seigneurs and the curates. The promises made by the emissaries of Monsieur the Duke of Chaulnes caused great jubilation among the peasants. They declared that, having obtained what they wanted, the war was ended, and they would return home to their respective parishes. So far from sharing the confidence into which the peasants were lulled, Lebrenn and Serdan urged upon them the necessity of not disbanding and not laying down their arms; they assured the peasants that they were being deceived, and that the plan was to dissolve their army by means of mendacious promises, and then to fall upon and crush them. Indeed, the promises were but a snare and a lure. But the lure seduced the peasants, who were homesick for their huts, their wives and their children. In vain did their chiefs urge them to march upon Rennes, the usual place for the parliament to hold its sessions, and support the assembly in its defiance of the King."

"And the advice was not heeded?"

"No, mademoiselle. The vassals, delighted at the realization of their aspirations, answered that it was impossible to suppose Monseigneur the Governor would vilely lie to them. They broke ranks and struck the roads home in separate bands, proclaiming everywhere along their passage that the Peasant Code was accepted by the seigneurs and the curates. Great rejoicing reigned in all the parishes of Brittany. Everywhere bonfires were lighted. Upon learning at Guemenee of the dispersion of the insurgents, I inquired after their chiefs. I learned that Monsieur Salaun Lebrenn, his son and Monsieur Serdan had proceeded to Rennes. I went thither. The masses of the people, especially the bourgeoisie, being less credulous than the peasants, remained in arms, the same as at Nantes, awaiting the opening of the parliament promised by Monsieur the Duke of Chaulnes. While at Rennes I looked for the Lebrenns and Monsieur Serdan. Later I learned they had departed for Nantes. Thither I wended my way. Upon arriving at Nantes I learned that a body of ten thousand troops, commanded by Monsieur De Forbin, had just entered Brittany in order to crush the rebellious parliamentarians – were they bourgeois or peasants. On the following day the town of Nantes was occupied by two regiments of infantry, supported by artillery and cavalry. The executions commenced. On the first day forty-seven leading bourgeois were hanged, and eleven men of the common people, who were marked as seditious, broken alive on the wheel."

"My God!" cried Mademoiselle Plouernel horrified. "How much blood! How much blood!"

"The city was mulcted of one hundred thousand ecus, the sum to be delivered to the troops within forty-eight hours. Thereupon a decree of the Governor of Brittany was posted pronouncing sentence of death upon all those who would afford refuge to the chiefs of the insurrection. At the head of the list of the chiefs, whose heads were pronounced forfeit, were the names of Salaun and Nominoë Lebrenn."

"I am not surprised," put in Bertha calmly. "And at Nantes neither were you able to find any traces of Monsieur Lebrenn and his son?"

"No, mademoiselle. From that moment it seemed to me there was nothing left for me to do but to return and inform you of the miscarriage of my errand. But, alas! as I crossed Brittany, what a lamentable spectacle! Pillage, desolation, gallows – everywhere! The soldiers treat Brittany like a conquered country, and demean themselves in the identical manner that they did in Flanders. Their acts of rapine and cruelty transcend description. I saw along the roads almost as many gibbets as trees! The peasants are tortured and then butchered. Those who flee to the woods are tracked, hunted and killed like wild beasts by the soldiers! They spare neither old men nor children – the women are outraged. In short, such is the terror that reigns in the country that yesterday, as I crossed Lesneven, which was just occupied by a company of soldiers, I saw a score of peasants throw themselves upon their knees, clasp their hands, and offering their throats, cry out pitifully to the soldiers: 'Cut our throats, if you wish, but do not make us languish in torture!' Finally this morning, at Karer, a lot of drunken soldiers roasted a child alive!"

"Enough! That's horrible!" cried Mademoiselle Plouernel, shivering. "Oh, great century! Oh, Grand Monarch! Blessed be the hour when I shall depart from this land, the scene of so many horrors and so many infamies!"

"Is mademoiselle going on a voyage?"

"Yes," answered Bertha with an indefinable smile; "yes, I contemplate undertaking a long voyage."

"May I hope that mademoiselle will keep me near her? I am old, but devoted."

"I know your devotion, good and faithful servitor. It matches Marion, my nurse's. Nevertheless, I could hardly think of taking you with me, either you, or her."

"Is it possible!" exclaimed the old man, tears coming to his eyes. "What! Are we not to accompany mademoiselle? But, good God! I may ask without presuming too much, where will mademoiselle find more faithful servants, or more devoted to her? We must implore mademoiselle to keep us near her, in her service."

"Can you imagine that, if I were to keep any servants, I would look for others than yourselves?"

"But, mademoiselle," persisted Du Buisson, stupefied, "mademoiselle can not think of traveling alone!"

"Exactly! That surprises you? I can well understand that it does. And yet, it is so. I need not add that I shall provide for your old age, my good Du Buisson."

"Oh, I hope mademoiselle does not think that my private interest – is what concerns me – "

"Your disinterestedness, Du Buisson, is equal to your probity and zeal – I know it. For that very reason it will be an agreeable duty on my part to recompense your long services. That is not yet all. I shall leave you – you and Marion – charged with a mission that, I am sure, you will be thankful to me for entrusting you with. I can entrust it to no worthier hands. The large number of executions, which, by order of Louis XIV will turn Brittany into a vast cemetery, will make many widows, many orphans. Before my departure I shall leave with you a considerable sum in gold and valuables. You and Marion shall use the same towards alleviating the distress of the poor families whose breadwinners will have perished and – "

Marion burst into the room. She was pale and trembling. In a broken voice she said:

"Oh, mademoiselle! What a singular occurrence!"

"What is the matter, nurse?"

"I hardly dare tell you! My God, you will be so much surprised! It will be so strange to you – I am all upset!"

"What is the matter?"

"Margarid, the porter's wife, came up to the house to announce to me that someone knocked at the gate, that she opened, a person appeared and asked to speak – "

"Well?"

"I told Margarid to let the person come in; he did – I saw him. It is – Nominoë Lebrenn."

"Heaven be praised! Thanks, Oh Lord, thanks!" cried Mademoiselle Plouernel, clasping her hands tightly and raising her eyes moistened with joyful tears. Immediately after her first transport of gladness, Bertha said to Marion in a voice that trembled:

"Bring him to me. Let him come."

Marion left, and Bertha returned to her old equerry:

"You will not forget my recommendations regarding the sum that I destine for the widows and orphans – whom the savage soldiers of the Grand Monarch will have made."

"Mademoiselle's wishes shall be carried out," answered the old man, bowing.

He left the room; almost immediately after Nominoë entered the hall. His clothes were dusty; he threw his wallet and traveling stick upon an arm chair. He stood alone before Bertha.

CHAPTER X.
UNITED

Mademoiselle Plouernel stepped buoyantly towards Nominoë, reached out her hand to him, and said delightedly:

"At last I see you again!"

"How beautiful she is! My God, how beautiful she is!" the young man murmured involuntarily, standing in ecstasy before the young girl whose hand he held in his own. Never before, not even at The Hague, was he dazzled by the radiant beauty of Bertha as now. For a moment he remained as if in a transport – enraptured – in ecstatic adoration.

Soon the intoxicating emotion was succeeded by a bitter presentiment in Nominoë's heart. He knew himself to be passionately loved by Bertha. She must have suffered a thousand cruel pangs at the thought of the perils that he ran since they last met, above all at the thought of the wreck of the marriage which she had so long looked forward to. And yet, so far from finding her dejected, pale, emaciated by grief and despair, she stood there blooming with freshness and beauty. Love has a penetrating eye. Mademoiselle Plouernel divined the secret thought of Nominoë, and addressing him with a charming smile, said:

"Be frank, my friend, you find me too beautiful, do you not?"

"What is that you say, Bertha!"

"Admit it, pallor would better suit my cheeks than the tint of the rose. Recent tears should dim the brilliancy of my eyes. An expression of despair should compress my lips. Instead – my eyes shine brilliantly, my cheeks are red, and a smile sits upon my lips. Nothing in me betrays the pangs of despair; I look brimful of confidence, of calm and serene hope. What can I say to you, Nominoë? – my face can dissemble as little as my heart. Only a minute ago, before your arrival, I was happy; I see you again, my happiness is doubled. My words, my appearance, astonish you, because you left me broken with grief. Here," added Mademoiselle Plouernel taking from the table the letter which her old equerry had just returned to her; "read this; you will then understand what seems unexplainable to you. I sent to you a man whom I trust; he was to deliver this letter to you; he followed your traces to Guemenee, to Rennes, to Nantes; nowhere could he find you."

The young man took the letter; Bertha stepped out of the hall for a moment and quickly returned carrying a rather heavy casket. She laid the latter upon the table where also stood some writing materials, and traced a few lines with a firm hand. She then folded the two sheets; on the one she wrote —To my dear and good Marion; on the other —To my faithful Du Buisson. While Bertha was thus engaged, Nominoë informed himself of the contents of the letter that she had handed to him. A tremor ran through his frame and his moist eyes turned to Bertha. "What a heart! What courage! As brave as she is beautiful!" he muttered to himself, and resumed his reading. When he finished he carried the letter to his lips. Tears covered his face. He stepped forward, transfigured. His countenance became, like Bertha's, radiantly serene. He raised his head; his tears ceased to flow; a smile flitted over his lips; he collected his thoughts, and said to Mademoiselle Plouernel, who stepped towards him:

"Bertha, the future dazzles me like your beauty; but two words about the past: The insurrection is suppressed; Serdan is dead; my father! my father has gone and now is reborn, and lives yonder – but, alas! I could not bid him my supreme adieu, and close his eyes."

"When did that misfortune happen?"

"At Nantes, where we stopped, together with Serdan, we hoped to be able to rekindle the energy of the population of the town, and counteract the defection of the peasants. But the promises of Monsieur Chaulnes had made their dupes in Nantes also. Hence arose a fatal division between those of the inhabitants who laid down their arms, and those who wished to remain under arms. In the midst of the discord Nantes was occupied by a strong armed force. To attempt resistance would have been folly. The executions started. My father, Serdan and myself were signalled out as the chiefs of the sedition. From the moment the King's troops occupied Nantes the town gates were watched. We could not leave the place. Some devoted friends offered us a place of refuge, but we had to hide separately. I left my father and Serdan. They were discovered in their hiding places. Serdan, who was fallen upon as he lay asleep, was arrested. The next day he was hanged. My father at least escaped such an inauspicious death. Entrenched in his room and well armed, he defended himself until he fell. The next day the Governor's decree was proclaimed to the sound of the trumpet pronouncing sentence of death upon all who thenceforward gave aid or comfort to the heads of the sedition. From my place of concealment I could hear the proclamation distinctly. I wished to surrender myself, in order to free my host from the responsibility that rested upon him. Besides, I was tired of life. The miscarriage of our insurrectionary plans, the death of my father, of Serdan, of Tina my bride – the certainty of your love, Bertha, the prospect of being reborn in the invisible world, everything drove me toward what is called death. I only regretted not having seen you once more on this earth. Frightened at my determination to surrender myself, my host opposed it warmly. Finding me set upon my purpose, he offered me a means of escape that he considered safe, although singular. The cemetery of the Protestants of Nantes lies outside of the walls, as a sign of contempt. It is now forbidden to the Reformed pastors to accompany a corpse to its last resting place. My host proposed to place me in a coffin. Two men were to transport me out of town, as if they were carrying a Protestant corpse to the grave. The plan was carried out. In that manner I was enabled to leave Nantes. Obsessed with the wish of seeing you I came to Mezlean, traveling only by night, and occasionally stopping at some solitary peasant's hut, or hiding in the forest. In that way I succeeded in coming to you. And now, Bertha, let us forget the past, let us think only of the present. A dazzling future discloses itself to my eyes."

Nominoë was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Marion, who, a prey to violent anxiety, cried out from the threshold:

"An officer of the King! and soldiers!"

"What does the officer want?" asked Bertha without stirring.

"To search the manor, instantly, he says, for a criminal. The porter refused to open the gate without your orders, mademoiselle; the officer threatens to use force."

"Heaven and earth! They will not take me alive!" cried Nominoë, drawing his dagger partly out of its sheath. "The soldiers of the Grand Monarch will not enjoy the pleasure of arresting me – I shall escape their gibbet."

"Keep cool, my friend; keep cool," replied Mademoiselle Plouernel, stepping towards the door of the hall with a tranquil smile. "Come, nurse."

"Bertha," asked Nominoë, "where are you going?"

"I am going to ask the officer whether he has completely lost his senses. What! Armed men demand, at this advanced hour of the night, to search the house of Mademoiselle Plouernel, when she is at home! No, no! I shall induce the noble officer to postpone his search for to-morrow. I feel certain the officer will feel happy to accede to my wishes."

"And suppose the officer should persist in forcing his way in?"

"Mademoiselle, there is a safe way of escape," said Marion anxiously. "The passage that leads from the close to the orchard runs under the path that skirts the walls of the garden; once in the orchard, the fields and the seashore can be safely reached."

"Mademoiselle!" the old equerry in turn ran in crying bewildered: "The soldiers have entered the yard and are trying to beat down the house door with the butts of their muskets."

"The door is thick; the walls of the close are high; we still have the passage to the orchard," observed Bertha calmly, and she added almost mirthfully: "If, contrary to my expectations, and after having heard me – I shall say nothing of after having seen me – the officer should persist in his savage conduct, then I shall return here instantly, and we shall have time to carry out our project, Nominoë. I have penetrated your thought. It is in accord with mine."

As Mademoiselle Plouernel uttered these last words she cast upon Nominoë a glance that intoxicated him. She left the hall followed by Marion and the old equerry and went to the manor door.

Left alone, Nominoë exclaimed in a transport of joy:

"She knows my mind! Oh, God be blessed for having brought me back to Mezlean! The minutes are numbered! I must now hasten to fulfill my father's wishes in the matter of our family narratives and relics. On the eve of the insurrection he deposited them at Vannes with a faithful and devoted friend, the only relative we have left in Brittany."

Nominoë drew a thick package from his pocket, laid it beside him, and rapidly covered several leaves with a fine and close writing. Mademoiselle Plouernel re-entered the hall, and smilingly said to Nominoë:

"We were wholly wrong, my friend, in doubting the gallantry of the officer. 'Is it not true, monsieur,' I asked him, 'that it is not your intention to invade to-night the dwelling of a young lady, who is alone in her house with her nurse and an old grey-headed equerry? To-morrow it will be daylight. The gate of the manor shall be thrown open to you. You shall then search for your criminal. Place your sentries at the gate. Surround the walls, if you fear escape in that quarter. To-morrow I should be happy to express to you my appreciation of your courtesy, and to the best of my powers I shall do you the honors of my house.' Our man," Bertha added, "lost himself in apologies; he postponed for to-morrow his visit to the manor, and asked my pardon for the liberty he would take of placing sentrymen at the gate and at the wall of the close in order to render all escape impossible. Thereupon I bade the officer good evening – and here I am back again."

"But now, my friend," Bertha proceeded in a more serious tone, after a pause, "in an hour it will be daylight. Before that hour shall have elapsed we must take and carry out a resolution that has been long decreed. You must have been convinced thereof by the letter which I wrote to you. And, once upon this subject, I must say that, even if the death of your bride had not rendered our marriage impossible, it became so by reason of your encounter with my brother. You struck him with a sword; I could not accept your hand, now that it is reddened with my brother's blood. Above all, however legitimate the revolt was, it caused his death, and you were one of the chiefs of the uprising. An abyss separates us in this world, Nominoë. Back in this manor after the burning of the Castle of Plouernel, I faced the reality without weakness. Our separation, the barriers that rendered our union impossible, weakened in nothing my love. That can not be affected by earthly causes. But my existence – sorely tried by so many misfortunes, by so many and cruel disappointments, even in the bosom of my own family – was becoming intolerable to me. Our marriage being broken off, my life lacked purpose. Then came the passionate desire to see my mother again, and shall I confess it to you? – an invincible, a devouring curiosity regarding the worlds where our lives are continued, body and soul: a curiosity that bordered on vertigo, when, back at Mezlean, and seated here in the evening with my eyes fixed upon the sky, I contemplated the myriads of stars, where our re-births are effected, as infinite in number as all eternity. All these reasons determined me to leave this world, to the end of rejoining my mother and waiting for you, Nominoë, there where we shall meet again those whom we have loved. My determination being taken, I wrote to you, I wished to bid you good-bye and receive a word of farewell from you. My emissary departed in quest of you. Soon a metamorphosis operated itself in me. The burning insomnias, the painful anxieties that had so long been undermining my health and exhausting my strength, ceased in the face of the certainty that soon I should meet again my mother, and soon my enchanted eyes will have opened to the marvels of the new worlds! This assurance gave me the needed peace of mind. My health recovered rapidly; my days passed in ineffable reveries while waiting for the return of the messenger who carried my letter to you. And yet, at times, I felt a sort of hesitation with regard to the manner in which I was to undertake that voyage, which seems so distant, and yet lasts but the length of a breath. I went almost every day to Karnak, where your ancestress Hena, the Virgin of the Isle of Sen, immolated herself centuries ago, offering her blood as a sacrifice to the gods of Gaul. I delighted in strolling along that deserted beach that the winds and waves ever beat against. Occasionally, I clambered up the highest of the Karnak rocks, the top of which offers a sort of platform, and I thought of leaping from there into the waves the foam of which seethes at the foot of the boulder. Other times I thought of imitating your ancestress Hena; I thought of cutting with a firm hand the slender thread that fetters our existence here below. But one day Marion accidentally informed me that one of her relatives blew– besides that he was ruining himself in the attempt to discover the philosopher's stone. I knew that those blowers, being experts in alchemy, often find in their alembics things that they do not look for – subtile poisons, sudden and frightful in their effects, which our sad days have, alas! often seen employed with disastrous results. Among other things these alchemists have discovered what is called the powder of succession. I went with Marion to Vannes, where the good man resides; I promised him a liberal reward if he would prepare me a mortal beverage, one that was certain and that left the victim in full control of his senses up to the last moment. Attracted by the prospect of gain, the blower set his retorts over the fire, and, in order to prove to me the efficacy of his liquid, left the room and quickly returned with a black cat in his arms. 'Just watch the effect of my philter,' said the blower to me, 'watch!' and before I had time to object to the experiment, he poured a few drops of the liquid into the mouth of the poor animal. The cat immediately lay down quietly. Her eyes remained clear, brilliant and alert. She stretched herself out with easy playfulness. But by little and little sleep seemed to overcome her, she lay down on one side; made a few slight motions – and expired peacefully, without the slightest tremor or symptom of pain. The alchemist had told me the truth! I took my newly acquired treasure with me. The certainty of a death that was so easy and sweet capped my sense of security, confidence and safety. Finally, returning to Mezlean this very night, my messenger informed me of the fruitlessness of his search for you, Nominoë. The revolt, of which you were one of the leaders, has provoked frightful reprisals. Brittany swims in blood. I decided to depart before to-morrow from this homicidal earth. I gave my last instructions to my old servitors. Under the pretext of contemplating a long voyage, I enclosed my testament in this casket."

Mademoiselle Plouernel paused. Only then did she notice that Nominoë, who was seated in an attitude of deep meditation, with his forehead resting upon his hand, was writing with the other. Until that moment the casket had concealed from Bertha's eyes the motion of his hand.

"Nominoë!" said Mademoiselle Plouernel in a tone of kind reproach, "I thought you were listening to my words – what are you writing there?"

"I am writing down your words, Bertha."

"Why so?"

"To join them to this," and Nominoë held up the envelope which he had laid upon the table.

"What does that package contain?"

"It contains the account of our love, which we may both be proud of. It is the narrative of what has happened to us, dear Bertha."

"And for whom do you destine that account?"

"For the descendants of the Lebrenn family," answered Nominoë, reading from one of the pages of his manuscript:

"Oh, sons of Joel – you who some day will read these lines traced by me, Nominoë Lebrenn, at this supreme hour, at the manor of Mezlean, under the eyes of Bertha of Plouernel – fail not to remember that angel of goodness and of concord, and, in her name, forget, pardon the injuries that her family has done to ours. Be merciful! Neither vengeance nor reprisals!"

"Noble heart!" answered Bertha with eyes moist with tears, and contemplating Nominoë with an expression of boundless love. "Accordingly, you are resolved, like myself, firmly resolved, to leave this sad earth for another dwelling place?"

"Even if an infamous death, from which only voluntary death could snatch me, did not await me to-morrow, my most ardent wish would be to accompany you, Bertha, upon this mysterious voyage."

"But to whom are you going to deliver the story of your life? To your father's brother, Gildas Lebrenn, the leasehold farmer of Karnak?"

"We dug the grave of Gildas, who was butchered by the King's soldiers on the staircase of the Castle of Plouernel."

"Will you then bequeath it to the father of your bride, your mother's brother?"

"Tankeru, the blacksmith, was arrested day before yesterday in his house, taken to Vannes, and broken alive on the wheel, along with Madok the miller. The inoffensive Paskou the Long, the 'Baz-valan' of my nuptials, was not spared either – he was hanged, like so many thousands of other insurgents!"

Nominoë rose, took up and opened his traveling wallet, and drew from it the iron head of a heavy blacksmith's hammer.

"Look at this, Bertha! This shall be joined to our family relics – sad and painful relics of a serf family."

"What sort of a hammer is that? It carries, cut into the iron head the Breton words Ez-Libr."

"They mean To Be Free. It was the device of Tankeru the blacksmith. He used this hammer as his weapon during the insurrection. I arrived this morning before dawn in the forest of Mezlean, feeling greatly alarmed over the fate of Tina's father. I went to his house early this morning. I calculated upon waiting there for nightfall, not daring to draw near Mezlean by daylight. I found at Tankeru's house only his desolate old mother. Tankeru had been arrested. Distracted with despair she informed me of her son's execution. My eyes alighted upon his hammer which lay near his extinct forge. I took its iron head. The blacksmith's hammer shall be joined to our symbolic relics. The manuscripts and the relic are to be forwarded to a relative, an artisan at Vannes, who will transmit them to his children. One of them will, perhaps, continue our plebeian annals by writing the history of Mademoiselle Plouernel and Nominoë Lebrenn."

Nominoë then proceeded to write and to read as he wrote:

"I, Nominoë Lebrenn, write this on the 17th of July, 1675, at the manor of Mezlean, one hour before dawn. Bertha of Plouernel is standing beside me. In a few minutes we shall leave the manor, which is surrounded by soldiers. The passage that leads from the close to the orchard runs under the road along which the sentries are on watch."

Nominoë stopped writing and asked Bertha:

"I understand it will be easy for us to reach the fields and the seashore after we are in the orchard?"

"Very easy, my friend. The owners of this manor had the vaulted passage dug under the road in order not to have to cross it every time they wished to go to the garden. The high walls that surround it will shelter us from the sight of the soldiers. The door that leads to the fields can be easily opened."

"When we leave the orchard," Nominoë proceeded to write, "we shall hasten to the seashore. The stones of Karnak rise there. The night is clear; the moon shines. Guided by the mellow light of the planet, Bertha and I, holding each other's hands, will climb the stairs of the ancient rock consecrated to the sacrifices, the druid trysting place, where ran the blood of Hena, the Virgin of the Isle of Sen. When Bertha and I shall have reached the platform of the granite rock, then, in the presence of the immensity of the sky and the ocean, the illimitable expanses of which will spread before our eyes, we shall kneel down, and joining our voices, say to the God of justice: