"But, father--"

"As I was saying, when it manifests its power on all sides! I repeat it--under such circ.u.mstances to allow oneself to be disheartened and discouraged, that would be to endanger our cause. But humanity pursues its steady march onward, despite the incredulity, the blindness, the weakness, and also the treasons and the crimes of man!"

"But, father--does humanity, indeed, march steadily on the path of progress?"

"Steadily, my sons."

"But yet, centuries ago, our forefathers the Gauls lived free and happy!

Nevertheless, were they not forced backward on the path of progress?

They were despoiled and enslaved by the Roman conquest, and later by the Frankish Kings."

"I did not say, my friends, that our forefathers did not suffer; what I said was that mankind marched onward. The latest descendants of an old world that was crumbling down on all sides to make room for the Christian world--an immense progress!--our fathers were bruised and mutilated under the falling ruins of ancient society. Nevertheless a deep-reaching and far-spreading social transformation was taking place.

Mankind marches evermore--slowly, at times--never, however, does it take a step backward."

"Father, I believe you--yet--"

"Despite yourself, still you doubt, Sacrovir? I can understand it.

Fortunately, the _lessons_, the _proofs_, the _data_, the _facts_, the _names_, that you are about to be made acquainted with in the mysterious chamber, will go further to convince you than any words of mine. When you will see, my friends, that in the gloomiest days of our history--such days as the Kings, the seigneurs and the clergy have almost always afflicted man with; when you will see that we, the conquered, started with slavery and arrived step by step to popular sovereignty; you will then ask yourselves whether, at this hour, when we find ourselves invested with that so painfully earned sovereignty, it would not be criminal on our part to mistrust the future. To mistrust it! Great G.o.d! Oh! Our fathers, despite all their martyrdom never did mistrust the future! There was hardly a century when they failed to take a step towards deliverance! Alas, almost always that step was marked with blood! If our masters, the conquerors, showed themselves implacable, there hardly was a century when, as you will see, there were not frightful reprisals levied upon them to satisfy divine justice. Yes, you will see, there hardly was a century when the woolen cap did not rise against the casque of gold, when the peasant's scythe did not strike fire with the lance of the knight, when the h.o.r.n.y hand of the va.s.sal did not smite the delicately pampered hand of some episcopal petty tyrant! You will see it, my children--hardly a century when the infamous debauches and acts of rapine and ferocity indulged in by the Kings and most of the seigneurs and upper clergy failed to rouse the people, or when they failed to protest, arms in hand, against the tyranny of the throne, the n.o.bility and the Popes! You will see it--hardly a century, when the famishing ma.s.ses, rising as inexorable as hunger, failed to throw their lordlings into terror--hardly a century without its Belshazzar's feast, buried along with its golden drinking cups, its flowers, its songs and its displayful magnificence, under the avenging wave of some popular torrent. Undoubtedly, alas! the terrible, though legitimate, reprisals of the oppressed were succeeded by ferocious acts of revenge. Nevertheless, formidable examples had been made. At each recurring epoch the Revolution wrung from the hereditary oppressors of our fathers some lasting concession, registered in the law and necessarily observed."

"I believe you," said Sacrovir. "Judging the past by the present, in 1789 the Revolution conquered our freedom; in 1830 the Revolution returned to us a part of our rights; finally, last year, in 1848, the Revolution proclaimed the sovereignty of the people and universal suffrage, which is calculated to put an end to b.l.o.o.d.y fratricidal conflicts."

"And so it ever has been, my boy. You will see it--_there is not a single social, political, civil or religious reform that our fathers were not forced to conquer from century to century at the price of their blood_. Alas! This is a cruel fact--it is deplorable. There was no choice but to resort to arms so long as the only answer made by the stiff-necked and inexorable enjoyers of privilege to the tears, the sorrows, the prayers of the oppressed was--No! No! No! Then frightful outbursts of rage flared up--then torrents of blood flowed on both sides. It was by dint of unterrified valor, persistent efforts, battles and martyrdom that our fathers first broke the old shackles of slavery in which the Franks kept them since the conquest. Thence they arrived at serfdom, a somewhat less horrible condition. Next, from serfs, they became va.s.sals, thereupon subject to mortmain--each of these a step upwards. And evermore thus, from step to step, cutting themselves by dint of abnegation a path across the centuries and all obstacles, they finally came so far as to conquer the sovereignty of the people. And you despair of the future when now, thanks to universal suffrage, the disinherited are able to impose their sovereign will upon the privileged minority! What, you despair, now that power is revokable by the voice of our representatives, whom we select as the supreme judges of the executive power! What, you despair because we have had eighteen months of constant struggle and of occasional suffering! Oh, it was not for so short a period as eighteen months that our forefathers struggled and suffered; it was for the long-drawn period of more than eighteen centuries! If every generation had its martyrs, it also registered its conquests! It is of those martyrs and those conquests that you are about to see the pious relics, the glorious trophies! Come, my children."

With this solemn invocation Marik Lebrenn proceeded, followed by his family, to the room with the closed windows, which the son, the daughter and the son-in-law of the merchant now entered for the first time.

CHAPTER XV.

THE MYSTERIOUS CHAMBER.

The mysterious chamber into which Marik Lebrenn now for the first time introduced his son, his daughter and George d.u.c.h.ene, presented, as far as exterior appearance went, nothing extraordinary, except that it was kept always lighted by a pendant lamp of antique workmanship, after the fashion of certain consecrated sanctuaries. And was not that spot the sanctuary of pious reminiscences, of the traditions, often heroic, of that plebeian family? Under the lamp the merchant's children saw a large cloth-covered table, on which stood a casket of bronze. Around the casket and musty with centuries, lay a number of articles, some of which dated back to the very furthest antiquity, and the most recent of which were the galley-slave's ring, which the merchant had brought with him from Rochefort, and the casque of the Count of Plouernel.

"My children," said Lebrenn in an impressive voice, indicating the historic curios gathered upon the table, "behold the relics of our family. Around each of these articles cl.u.s.ters some memory, some name, some deed, some date of interest to us. The same as when our descendants will have the narrative of my experience, written by me, the casque of Monsieur Plouernel and the galley-slave's ring that I brought with me from prison will possess their own historic significance. It is in this manner that almost every generation, of the many of whom we are lineal descendants, has for now nearly two thousand years furnished its contribution and tribute to this collection."

"During so many centuries, father!" said Sacrovir with profound astonishment, and looking at his sister and brother-in-law.

"Yon will later learn, my children, how these relics came down to us.

They do not fill much s.p.a.ce, as you may notice. With the exception of Monsieur Plouernel's casque and the sword of honor bestowed upon my father at the close of last century, all these articles can be locked up, as they have often been, in that bronze casket--the tabernacle of our family archives, that sometimes lay concealed in some sequestered place, and was often left there for safety during long years, until better days dawned upon its then possessor."

Lebrenn then took up from the table the first of these fragments of the past, which lay ranged in chronological order. It was a piece of gold jewelry, blackened with age, and shaped like a sickle. A movable ring, attached to the handle, indicated that the jewel was meant to be worn from a chain or suspended from a belt.

"This little gold sickle, my children," Lebrenn proceeded to explain, "is a druid emblem. It is the oldest souvenir we possess of our family.

It dates back to the year 57 before Jesus Christ, that is to say, nineteen hundred years ago."

"And did any of our forefathers wear that jewel, father?" asked Velleda.

"Yes, my child," answered Lebrenn with deep emotion. "She who wore it was young as you--and gifted with a most angelic heart and proudest courage withal! But why antic.i.p.ate the history of the relic? You will read that narrative of our family in this ma.n.u.script," added Lebrenn, pointing to a booklet which lay beside the gold sickle. The booklet, like all the older ones of those that were exhibited upon the table, consisted of a large number of oblong strips of tanned skin,[11] which, once sewed together by the ends so as to present the appearance of a long and narrow band, were later, for the sake of greater convenience, ripped apart and fastened together in the shape of a small tome covered with black s.h.a.green, on the face of which, in letters of silver, was the inscription:

YEAR 57 B. C.

"But father," said Sacrovir, "I see upon the table a booklet, very much like this one, lying beside each of the articles that you have referred to."

"Because, my children, each of these relics, coming from some one of the members of our family, is accompanied by a ma.n.u.script, written by himself, and relating his own life, often that of his relatives also."

"Why! Father!" exclaimed Sacrovir more and more amazed. "These ma.n.u.scripts--"

"Have all been written by some ancestor of ours. Does that astonish you, my children? It is hard, I presume, for you to understand how an obscure family can possess its own chronicles, as if it were of some ancient royal lineage! Besides, you are naturally wondering how these chronicles could follow one another without interruption, from century to century, for nearly two thousand years, down to our own days."

"Indeed, father," said the young man, "that does seem most extraordinary to me."

"You think that verges on the improbable, do you not?" asked the merchant.

"No, father," Velleda hastened to explain, "seeing you say it is so. But it certainly justifies us in wondering."

"I should first of all inform you, my children, that the custom of transmitting family traditions from generation to generation, be it orally or in writing, has ever been one of the most characteristic with our forefathers, the Gauls, and was observed with peculiar religiousness by the Gauls of Brittany, by them more than by any others. Every family, however obscure it might be, had its own traditions, while in the other lands of Europe the habit was observed but rarely even among Princes and Kings. In order to convince you of this," added the merchant, taking from the table a small old book that seemed to date from the earliest days of the printing press, "I shall quote to you a pa.s.sage translated from one of the most antique works of Brittany, the authority of which is unquestioned in the world of learning."

Marik Lebrenn read as follows:

"'Among the Bretons the most obscure people know their forefathers, and preserve the memory of their full ancestral line, back to the remotest ages, and they state it in this way, for instance: _Eres_, the son of _Theodrik_--son of _Enn_--son of _Aecle_--son of _Cadel_--son of _Roderik_ the Great or the Chief. And so on to the end. Their ancestors are, to them, the object of a positive cult, and the wrongs which they punish most severely are those done to their kin. Their revenge is cruel and sanguinary, and they punish, not the fresh wrongs only, but also the oldest done to their kin, which they keep steadily in mind so long as not revenged.' So you see, my children," observed Lebrenn, laying the book down upon the table, "that explains our family chronicle.

Unfortunately, you will learn that some of our ancestors have been but too faithful to this custom of pursuing vengeance from generation to generation. More than once in the course of the ages, the Plouernels--"

"What! Father!" cried George. "Have the ancestors of the Count of Plouernel been, occasionally, the enemies of our family?"

"Yes, children, you will see it. But let us not antic.i.p.ate events. You will readily understand that, if our fathers were from time immemorial in the habit of handing down a grudge from generation to generation, they necessarily handed down, along with the grudge, the cause therefor, besides the leading events of each generation. Thus it happens that our archives are found written from age to age, down to our own days."

"You are right, father," agreed Sacrovir; "that custom explains what at first seemed extraordinary to us."

"In a minute I shall give you, my children," the merchant proceeded to explain, "some further information regarding the language used in these ma.n.u.scripts. I must first bespeak your attention for these pious relics, which will make clear to you many things that you will run across in the ma.n.u.scripts. This gold sickle," added the merchant, replacing the jewel upon the table, "is, as you see, the symbol of ma.n.u.script Number 1, dated the year 57 before Jesus Christ. You will learn that that epoch was to our family, free at the time, an epoch of happy prosperity, of virile virtues, of proud principles. It was, alas! the close of a beautiful day. Frightful disasters came upon its heels--slavery, torture and death." After a moment's silence during which the merchant remained steeped in thought, he resumed: "Each of these ma.n.u.scripts will inform you, century by century, concerning the life of our ancestors."

For several minutes the eyes of the children of Marik Lebrenn wandered over the mementoes of the past lying on the table. Their eyes rested occasionally with greedy curiosity upon one object or another. They contemplated them in silence, and no less moved than their father.

Attached to the little gold sickle was, as Marik Lebrenn had stated, a ma.n.u.script bearing the date of the year 57 before Jesus Christ.

To ma.n.u.script Number 2, dated the year 56 before Jesus Christ, was attached a little bra.s.s bell, very much like the bells which to this day are attached to the necks of cattle in Brittany. The bell, accordingly, was at least nineteen hundred years old.

To ma.n.u.script Number 3, bearing the date of the year 28 before Jesus Christ, was attached a fragment of an iron collar, or carcan, corroded with rust, and on which the outlines of certain Roman letters could be deciphered, cut into the iron:

SERVUS SUM--(I am the slave).

As a matter of course the name of the slave's owner was on the missing fragment. The carcan must have been at least eighteen hundred and seventy-seven years old.

To ma.n.u.script Number 4, which was dated the year 32 of our era, was attached a little silver cross from which hung a tiny little chain of the same metal. Both seemed to have been blackened by fire. The little cross was eighteen hundred and seventeen years old.

To ma.n.u.script Number 5, dated the year 296 of our era, was attached a ma.s.sive copper ornament that once formed part of the top of a casque and represented a lark with wings partly distended. This fragment of a casque was fifteen hundred and fifty-three years old.

To ma.n.u.script Number 6, dated the year 550 of our era, was attached the hilt of an iron dagger, black with the mould of ages. On one of its sides could be seen the word: