by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER VII.
"THE SWORD OF BRENNUS."
While Marik Lebrenn was holding the conversation, just reported, withthe Count of Plouernel, the merchant's wife and daughter were, as wastheir custom, busy in the shop, over which hung the sign--_The Sword ofBrennus_.
While her daughter was engaged with her needle, Madam Lebrenn saw to thebooks of the establishment. She was a tall woman of forty. Her face, atonce serious and kind, preserved the traces of extraordinary beauty. Inthe cadence of her voice, her carriage, and her countenance there was acertain calmness and firmness that conveyed a high opinion of hernature. A glance at her was enough to remind one that our mothers, theGallic women, took part in the councils of the nation on criticaloccasions, and that such was the valor of those matrons that DiodorusSiculus expresses himself in these terms:
"The women of Gaul vie with the men not in tallness only, they alsomatch them by their moral strength."
And Strabo adds these significant words:
"The Gallic women are fertile and good teachers."
Mademoiselle Velleda Lebrenn sat by the side of her mother. So markedwas the girl's exceptional beauty that none could behold her withoutbeing struck by its radiance. Her mien was at once proud, ingenuous andthoughtful. Nothing more limpid than the blue of her eyes; nothing moredazzling than her complexion; nothing loftier than the carriage of hercharming head, crowned with long tresses of brown hair that here andthere gleamed in gold. Tall, lithesome and strong without masculinity,the sight and nature of the beauty explained the paternal whim thatcaused the merchant to give his child the name Velleda, the name of anillustrious heroine in the patriotic annals of the Gauls. MademoiselleLebrenn could be readily imagined with her brow wreathed in oak leaves,clad in a long white robe belted with brass, and vibrating the gold harpof the female druids, those wonderful teachers of our forefathers who,exalting them with the thought of the immortality of the soul, taughtthem to die with so much grandeur and serenity! In Mademoiselle Lebrennthe type was reproduced of those Gallic women, clad in black, with arms"so wonderfully white and nervy," as Ammienus Marcellinus expresses it,who followed their husbands to battle, with their children in theirchariots of war, encouraged the combatants with word and gesture, andmingled among them in the hour of victory or of defeat, ever preferringdeath to slavery and shame.
Those whose minds were not stored with these tragic and gloriousremembrances of the past saw in Mademoiselle Lebrenn a beautiful girl ofeighteen, coiffed in her magnificent head of brown hair, and whoseelegant shape outlined itself under a pretty high-necked robe of lightblue poplin, which set off a little orange cravat tied around her neat,white collar.
While Madam Lebrenn was casting up her accounts and her daughter sewed,occasionally exchanging a few words with her mother, Gildas Pakou, theshop-boy, stood at the door. The youngster was uneasy and greatlydisturbed in mind, so very much disturbed that it never occurred to him,as was otherwise his wont, to recite promiscuously favorite passagesfrom his beloved Breton songs.
The worthy fellow was preoccupied with just one thought--the strangecontrast that he found between the reality and his mother's promises,she having informed him that St. Denis Street in general, and the houseof Monsieur Lebrenn in particular, were particularly quiet and peacefulspots.
Gildas suddenly turned about and said to Madam Lebrenn in a high stateof alarm:
"Madam! Madam! Listen!"
"What is it, Gildas?" asked Madam Lebrenn, proceeding unperturbed tomake her entries in the large ledger.
"But, madam, it is the drum! Listen! Besides--Oh, good God!--I see somemen running!"
"What of it, Gildas," returned Madam Lebrenn; "let them run."
"Mother," put in Velleda after listening a few seconds, "it is the callto arms. There must be some fear that the agitation that has reigned inParis since yesterday may spread."
"Jeanike," Madam Lebrenn called out to the maid servant, "MonsieurLebrenn's National Guard uniform must be got ready. He may want it onhis return home."
"Yes, madam, I shall see to it," answered Jeanike, going to the rearroom.
"Gildas," Madam Lebrenn proceeded, "can you see the St. Denis Gate fromwhere you are?"
"Yes, madam," answered Gildas, all in a tremble; "would you want me togo there?"
"No; be at ease; only let me know whether there is much of a crowdgathering at that end of the street."
"Oh! yes, madam," answered Gildas, craning his neck. "It looks like anant-hill. Oh, good God! Madam! Madam! Oh, my God!"
"What is it now, Gildas?"
"Oh, madam! Down there--the drums--they were about to turn the corner--"
"Well?"
"A lot of men in blouses stopped them--they have broken the drums.Listen! Madam! Look! The whole crowd is running this way. Do you hearthem screaming, madam? Should we not close the shop?"
"It is very evident, Gildas, you are none too brave," said MademoiselleLebrenn without raising her eyes from her needlework.
At that moment a man clad in a blouse and dragging with difficulty asmall handbarrow that seemed to be heavily loaded, stopped before thedoor, pulled the barrow up alongside the sidewalk, stepped into theshop, and accosted the merchant's wife:
"Monsieur Lebrenn, madam?"
"This is his place."
"I have here four bales for him."
"Linen, I suppose?" asked Madam Lebrenn.
"Well, madam, I think so," answered the messenger with a smile.
"Gildas," she resumed, addressing the good fellow, who was casting evermore uneasy glances into the street, "help monsieur carry the bales tothe rear of the shop."
The messenger and Gildas raised the bales out of the barrow. They werelong and thick rolls, and were wrapped in coarse grey cloth.
"This must be fiercely close-packed linen," remarked Gildas as, withgreat effort, he was helping the barrowman to carry in the last of thefour rolls. "This thing is as heavy as lead."
"Do you really think so, my friend?" said the man in the blouse, fixedlylooking at Gildas, who modestly lowered his eyes and blushed.
The barrowman thereupon addressed himself to Madam Lebrenn, saying:
"There, my errand is done, madam. I must, above all things, recommend toyou that the bales be kept in a dry place, and no fire near, untilMonsieur Lebrenn arrives. That linen is very--very delicate."
And the barrowman mopped the sweat from his forehead.
"You must have had work to wheel those bales here all alone," remarkedMadam Lebrenn kindly; and opening the drawer in which she kept the smallchange, she took out a ten-sou piece, which she pushed over the desk tothe barrowman. "Take this for your pains."
"Thank you very much, madam," answered the man, smiling. "I have beenpaid."
"A messenger _thanks very much_, and refuses a tip!" said Gildas tohimself. "A puzzling--a very puzzling house this is!"
Herself considerably surprised at the manner in which the barrowmanformulated his declination, Madam Lebrenn raised her eyes and saw a manof about thirty years, of an agreeable face, and who, an exceptionalthing with package carriers, had remarkably white hands, carefullytrimmed nails, and a neat gold ring on his little finger.
"Could you tell me, monsieur," asked the merchant's wife, "whether theexcitement in Paris is on the increase?"
"Very much so, madam. One can hardly move on the boulevard. Troops arepouring in from all sides. Artillerymen are posted in front of theGymnasium with their fuses lighted. I came across two squadrons ofdragoons on patrol duty, with loaded carbines. Everywhere the roll ofthe drum is calling to arms--although, I must say, the National Guarddoes not seem to be in any great hurry. But you must excuse me, madam,"added the barrowman, bowing politely to Madam Lebrenn and her daughter."It will be soon four o'clock. I am in a hurry."
He went out, took his handbarrow and wheeled it rapidly away.
On hearing of artillerymen stationed in the neighborhood with lightedfuses in hand, Gildas was overwhelmed with a fresh flood of misgivings.Neverthel
ess, rocked between fear and curiosity, he risked another peepinto the fearful St. Denis Street, which lay so near to the artillerystation.
At the moment that Gildas stretched his neck outside of the shop again,the young girl who had taken breakfast with the Count of Plouernel thatvery morning, and who improvised such giddy-headed ditties, emerged fromthe alley of the house where George Duchene lodged, and which, as wasstated before, stood opposite the linendraper's shop.
Pradeline looked sad and uneasy. After taking a few steps on thesidewalk, she approached the shop of Lebrenn as near as she dared, inorder to cast an inquisitive look within. Unfortunately, the shade overthe window intercepted the sight. True enough, the door was ajar. ButGildas, who stood before it, entirely obstructed the passage.Nevertheless, Pradeline, believing herself unobserved, persevered in herefforts to obtain a look at the interior of the place. For some timeGildas watched with increasing curiosity the suspicious manoeuvres ofthe young girl. Appearances deceived him; he took himself to be theobject of Pradeline's obstinate glances. The prudish youngster loweredhis eyes and blushed till his ears tingled. His alarmed modesty orderedhim to go into the shop in order to prove to the brazen girl how littlehe cared for her blandishments. Nevertheless certain promptings ofself-esteem held him nailed to the threshold, and more than ever hemuttered to himself:
"A puzzling town this is, where, not far from the artillery where fusesare held lighted, young girls come to devour shop-boys with their eyes!"
He noticed that Pradeline crossed the street once more and stepped intoa neighboring cafe.
"The unfortunate girl! She surely means to drown her disappointment inseveral glasses of wine. If she does she will be capable of coming outagain and pursuing me straight into the shop. Good God! What would MadamLebrenn and mademoiselle think of that!"
A new incident cut short, for a while, the chaste apprehensions ofGildas. A four-wheeled truck, drawn by a strong horse, and containingthree large, flat chests about two meters high and inscribed _Glass_,drew up before the shop. The vehicle was in charge of two men inblouses. One of these, named Dupont, was the same who had been to theshop early that morning in order to recommend to Monsieur Lebrenn not toinspect his supply of grain. The other wore a thick grey beard. Theyalighted from their seat, and Dupont, the driver, stepping into theshop, greeted Madam Lebrenn and said:
"Has Monsieur Lebrenn not yet returned, madam?"
"No, monsieur."
"We have brought him three cases of looking glasses."
"Very well, monsieur," answered Madam Lebrenn. And calling Gildas, sheadded:
"Help these gentlemen to bring in the looking glasses."
The shop-assistant obeyed, saying to himself:
"A puzzling house! Three chests with looking glasses--and so heavy!Master, his wife and daughter must be very fond of looking atthemselves!"
Dupont and his grey-bearded companion had helped Gildas to place thechests in the room behind the shop, as directed by Madam Lebrenn, whenshe said to them:
"What is the news, messieurs? Is the agitation in Paris subsiding?"
"On the contrary, madam, 'tis getting hotter--and still hotter,"answered Dupont with barely concealed satisfaction. "They have commencedto throw up barricades in the St. Antoine quarter. To-night thepreparations--to-morrow, battle."
Hardly had Dupont uttered these words, when a formidable clamor washeard from the distance, the words "_Long live the Reform!_" beingdistinctly audible.
Gildas ran to the door.
"Let's hurry," said Dupont to his companion. "Our truck may be taken forthe center of a barricade; it would be premature--we have still severalerrands to attend to;" and bowing to Madam Lebrenn, he added, "Ourregards to your husband, madam."
The two men leaped upon the seat of their truck, gave their horse thewhip, and drove away in the direction opposite to that whence the clamorproceeded.
Gildas had closely followed with his eyes and with renewed uneasinessthe new concourse of people near the St. Denis Gate. Suddenly he sawPradeline emerge from the cafe which she had entered a few minutesbefore, and direct her steps towards the shop, holding a letter in herhand.
"What a persistent minx! She has been writing to me!" thought Gildas."The wretched woman is bringing me the letter herself! A declaration! Iam going to be disgraced in the eyes of my employers!"
The bewildered Gildas stepped in quickly, closed the door, turned thekey, and cuddled up quiet as a mouse close to the desk.
"Well," said Madam Lebrenn, "why do you lock the door, Gildas?"
"Madam, it is more prudent. I saw coming up from down below a band ofmen--whose frightful faces--"
"Go to, Gildas, you are losing your head! Open the door."
"But madam--"
"Do as I tell you. Listen, there is someone trying to come in. Open thedoor."
"It is that devil of a girl with her letter," thought Gildas to himself,more dead than alive. "Oh, why did I leave my quiet little village ofAuray!"
And he opened the door with his heart thumping against his ribs.Instead, however, of seeing before him the young girl with her letter,he stood face to face with Monsieur Lebrenn and his son.