The Galley Slave's Ring; or, The Family of Lebrenn

"May the good God hear you, Monsieur Lebrenn," put in father Morin. "Although I am quite old, I expect to see a good part of that beautiful picture. To want more than that, one must be quite a glutton," added the old man naïvely, and casting a tender look upon the merchant's daughter. "Could I, after that, still have anything to wish for, now that I know that this good and beautiful girl is to be the wife of my grandson? Is he not now a member of a family of good people? The daughter is worthy of the mother, the son is worthy of the father. Zounds! When one has seen all that, and is as old as I am, there is nothing more that the heart can wish for – one may take his leave with a contented mind."

"Take your leave, good father?" said Madam Lebrenn, taking and warming in her own one of the trembling hands of the old man. "And what about those who remain behind and love you?"

"And who will feel doubly happy," added Velleda embracing the grandfather, "if you remain to witness their happiness."

"And who desire to render homage in you, good father, and for many long years, to labor, to courage, and to a big good heart!" exclaimed Sacrovir in accents of respectful deference, while the old man, more and more moved, carried his tremulous and venerable hands to his eyes.

"Oh! Do you imagine, Monsieur Morin," asked the merchant, smiling, "that you are not our 'good grandfather' as well? Do you imagine you do not belong to us, as well as to our dear George? As if our affections were not his own, and his own ours!"

"My God! My God!" exclaimed the old man, so moved with delight that tears filled his eyes. "What can I say to all that? It is too much – too much – all I can say is thanks, and weep. George, you who can talk, speak for me, do!"

"That is easy enough for you to say, grandfather," replied George, no less moved than Monsieur Morin.

"Father!" suddenly cried Sacrovir, stepping to the window. "Look! Look!"

And he added with exaltation:

"Oh, you brave and generous people of all peoples!"

At the call of the young man all rushed to the window.

The funeral ceremony being over, the boulevard was now free. At the head of a long procession of workingmen, there marched four members of their class carrying on their shoulders a species of shield decked with ribbons, in the middle of which a small casket of white wood was placed. Immediately behind followed a banner bearing the inscription:

LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC!

LIBERTY – EQUALITY – FRATERNITY

AN OFFERING TO THE FATHERLAND

The people who lined the street shouted in transports of joy:

"Long live the Republic!"

"Oh!" cried the merchant with moist eyes. "I recognize them by their conduct! It is like themselves, the proletarians – they who uttered the sublime sentiment: We gave three months of misery to the service of the Republic, they the poor workingmen in the civil service, who were the first to be struck by the commercial crisis! And yet, behold them, the first to offer to the country the little that they possess – half their morrow's bread, perhaps!"

"And these men," added Madam Lebrenn, "who set such a noble example to the rich and the happy of the land; these men who display so much abnegation, such broadness of heart, so much resignation, so much patriotism, are they not to escape from their servitude! What, are their intelligence and industry forever to remain sterile only to themselves! Is for them a family ever to be the source of worry, the present a continuous privation, the future a frightful nightmare, and property a sardonic dream! No, no, you God of Justice! These men who have triumphed with so much grandeur have at last climbed to the top of their Calvary! The day of justice has come for them also! With your father, my children, I say – this is a glorious day, a day of equity and of justice, free from all taint of vengeance!"

"And those sacred words are the symbol of the emancipation of the workers!" exclaimed Monsieur Lebrenn pointing to the inscription in front of the church:

LIBERTY – EQUALITY – FRATERNITY

CHAPTER XII.

THE GALLEY-SLAVE AND THE GENERAL

About eighteen months have elapsed since the memorable day of the imposing ceremonies described in the previous chapter, that were so rich with splendid promises to France – and all the world. It is after the lapse of that period that we are now to meet again Marik Lebrenn and his family.

The following scene was taking place in the early part of the month of September, in 1849, at the convict-prison of Rochefort.

The meal hour had sounded. The convicts were eating.

One of the galley-slaves, attired like all the others in the regulation red vest and red cap, with the manille, or iron ring fastened to a heavy chain, on his feet, sat on a stone, and was biting into a chunk of black bread.

The galley-slave was Marik Lebrenn.

He had been sentenced to hard labor by a council of war after the June insurrection of 1848.

The merchant's features preserved their usual expression of serenity and firmness. The only change in him was that his face, exposed during his arduous work to the scorching heat of the sun on the water, had acquired, one might say, the color of brick.

A guard, with sword at his side and cane in hand, after having looked over several groups of convicts, stopped, as if he were in search of someone, and then, pointing with his cane in the direction of Marik Lebrenn, called out:

"Halloa, down there – number eleven hundred and twenty!"

The merchant continued to eat his black bread with a hearty appetite and did not answer.

"Number eleven hundred and twenty!" repeated the guard in a louder voice. "Don't you hear me, scamp!"

Continued silence on the part of Lebrenn.

Grumbling and put out at being obliged to take a few more steps, the guard approached Lebrenn at a rapid pace, and touching him with the end of his cane, addressed him roughly:

"The devil! Are you deaf? Answer me, you brute!"

As Lebrenn felt himself touched by the guard's cane his face lowered, but quickly suppressing the impulse to anger and indignation, he answered calmly:

"What do you want?"

"I called you twice – eleven hundred and twenty! And you did not answer. Do you expect to escape me in that way? Look out!"

"Come, be not so brutal!" answered Lebrenn, shrugging his shoulders. "I did not answer you because I have not yet become accustomed to hearing myself called by any but my own name – and I am always forgetting that my present name is eleven hundred and twenty."

"Enough of argumentation! Step up, and come to the Commissioner of Marine."

"What for?"

"None of your business. Step up! march! quick!"

"I follow you," said Lebrenn with imperturbable calmness.

After crossing a part of the port, the guard, followed closely by the galley-slave, arrived at the door of the Commissioner in charge of the convicts.

"Will you kindly notify the Commissioner that I have brought him number eleven hundred and twenty?" said the guard to one of the keepers at the door.

A minute later the keeper returned, ordered the merchant to follow him, led him down a long corridor, and opening the door of a richly furnished room, said to Lebrenn:

"Walk in, and wait there."

"How is that?" asked the astonished merchant. "You leave me alone?"