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

"Oh, brother, brother! I feel as if a frightful ferment of hatred and vengeance were gathering and rising in my breast!" exclaimed the merchant's son in a hollow voice. "If I could have one day – one single day – to pay back for all this – even if I were to spend the rest of my life in torment."

"Patience, brother!" answered George. "Everyone has his turn – patience!"

"Children," interposed Madam Lebrenn in a grave and melancholy voice, "you speak of justice – do not mix words of vengeance or of hatred with it. Were your father here – and he is ever with us in the spirit – he would tell you that the right does not hate – does not revenge itself. Hatred and vengeance make the head giddy. Those who persecuted your father and his party with such ferocity are a proof of what I say. Pity them – do not follow their example."

"And yet to see what we see, mother!" cried the youth. "To think that father, our dear father, a man of such integrity and courage, of such tried patriotism, finds himself at this hour in a convict's prison! To know that our enemies derive an insane joy from the prolongation of his undeserved sufferings!"

"In what way does that affect the honor, courage or patriotism of your father, my child?" suggested Madam Lebrenn. "Is it in the power of anybody in the world to stain that which is pure? to disgrace what is great? to turn an honest man into a felon? Do you imagine your father is honored less by his unjust sentence and the mark of the chain that he is now made to drag than by the wounds that he received in 1830? Will he not, when the hour of justice shall have sounded, step out of prison even more beloved, even more venerated than ever before? Oh, my children! We may weep over your father's absence, but let us never forget that every day of his martyrdom exalts and does him honor!"

"You are right, mother," replied Sacrovir, sighing heavily. "Thoughts of hatred and vengeance injure the heart."

"Oh!" exclaimed Velleda sadly. "Poor father! He looked forward to to-morrow's date with so much impatience!"

"To to-morrow?" George asked his wife. "Why so?"

"To-morrow is my son's birthday," explained Madam Lebrenn. "To-morrow, September 11, he will be twenty-one years of age. For several reasons that anniversary was to be a family holiday to us."

Hardly had Madam Lebrenn uttered these words when the street door bell was heard to ring.

"Who can it be, so late? It is nearly midnight," observed Madam Lebrenn. "Go and see who it is, Jeanike."

"I shall go, madam!" cried Gildas heroically, rising from his seat. "There may be some danger."

"I do not think so," replied Madam Lebrenn; "but you may go."

A few minutes later Gildas returned holding in his hand a letter that he delivered to Madam Lebrenn, saying:

"Madam, a messenger brought this – there is no answer."

Hardly had the merchant's wife cast her eyes upon the envelope when she cried:

"Children – a letter from your father!"

George, Sacrovir and Velleda rose together and drew near their mother.

"Singular," she pondered aloud and not without some signs of uneasiness as she examined the envelope which she was unsealing. "This letter must come from Rochefort, like all the others, and yet it is not stamped."

"Perhaps," observed George, "Monsieur Lebrenn commissioned someone who was leaving Rochefort to bring it to you."

"And that must have been the cause of the delay," added Sacrovir. "That is the explanation."

Feeling not a little alarmed at the unusual occurrence, Madam Lebrenn hastened to open the letter, which she proceeded to read aloud to her children:

"Dearly beloved friend, embrace our children in the name of a bit of good news, that will surprise you as much as it will make you happy – I have hopes of seeing you soon – "

When the merchant's wife uttered these words it became impossible for her to continue reading. Her children gathered around her and threw their arms about her neck with shouts of joy, too many and loud to reproduce, while George and Jeanike, standing at a respectful distance, shared the general family glee.

"Dear children, be sensible – do not let us rejoice too soon," cautioned Madam Lebrenn. "Your father only expresses a hope to us. God knows how often our hopes of an amnesty have been dashed!"

"Oh, mother! Mother! Quick! Read on! finish the letter!" exclaimed the children in all keys of impatience. "We shall soon see whether the hope is well founded."

Madam Lebrenn proceeded to read her husband's letter:

"I have hopes of seeing you soon again – sooner perhaps than you may imagine – "

"Do you see, mother, do you see!" cried the children, trembling with joy and clasping their hands as if in prayer.

"Good God! Good God! Is it possible! We are to see him soon again!" exclaimed Madam Lebrenn, wiping from her eyes the tears that darkened them, and she proceeded reading:

"When I say I hope, my dearly beloved friend, I mean more than a mere hope; it is in fact a certainty. I should, perhaps, have begun my letter by giving you this assurance; but, however well aware I am of your self-possession, I feared lest too sudden a surprise might hurt you and our children. By this time, I consider, your minds are quite familiarized with the idea of seeing me soon, very soon, not so? Accordingly, I now feel free to promise you – "

"Why, mother," broke in George interrupting the reading of the letter, "Monsieur Lebrenn must be in Paris!"

"In Paris!" the family cried in chorus.

"The letter bears no stamp," proceeded George excitedly. "Monsieur Lebrenn has arrived – and he sent the letter ahead with a messenger."

"There can be no doubt! George is right," put in Madam Lebrenn.

And she read rapidly the rest of the missive:

"Accordingly, I now feel free to promise you that we shall all celebrate together our son's anniversary. That day begins to-night after twelve o'clock; at that hour, or, perhaps, even sooner, I shall be with you. Just so soon as the messenger who takes my letter to you, leaves the house, I shall run upstairs and wait – yes, I shall wait behind the door, there, near you."

No sooner were these last words read than Madam Lebrenn and her children precipitated themselves upon the door.

It opened.

Indeed, Monsieur Lebrenn was there.

Futile to describe the transports of joy of this family when once again they had their adored father in their midst!

CHAPTER XIV.

SACROVIR'S BIRTHDAY

The family of Marik Lebrenn were assembled in their little parlor on the day after the merchant's arrival. It was the birthday of his son, who on that day completed his twenty-first year.

"My son," Lebrenn said to Sacrovir, "to-day you are twenty-one years of age. The time has come to introduce you to the chamber with the closed window that has so often excited your curiosity. You are about to become acquainted with its contents. I wish first to explain to you the reason for and the cause of this mystery. The moment you are initiated, my son, I know your curiosity will turn to pious respect. Accident has so willed it that the day of your initiation into this family mystery should be providentially chosen. Since my arrival yesterday, we have given ourselves over to tokens of love, and have had little time to consider public matters. Nevertheless, a few words that escaped you – as well as you, my dear George," added the merchant addressing his daughter's husband, "cause me to apprehend that you feel discouraged – that you may even despair."

"It is but too true, father," answered Sacrovir.

"When one witnesses the things that are happening every day," added George, "one may well feel alarmed for the future of the Republic, and of mankind."

"Well, tell me, children," asked Lebrenn with his usual smile, "what is happening that is so very terrible? Tell me all about it."

"Everywhere at this hour the people's liberty is being kicked and cuffed, and even strangled by the henchmen of absolute Kings. Italy, Prussia, Germany, Hungary, are all again forced under the bloody yoke that, electrified by our example in 1848, they that year broke, relying upon our support as their brothers! To the northeast the despot of the Cossacks planted one foot upon Poland, another upon Hungary, smothered both countries in their own blood, and now threatens the independence of Europe with his knout, and is even ready to hurl upon us his savage hordes!"

"Similar hordes, my children, our wooden-shoed fathers rolled in the dust in the days of the Convention – we shall do as much. As to the Kings, they massacre, they threaten, they foam at the mouth with rage – and, above all, with terror! Already they see myriads of avengers arise out of the blood of the martyrs whom they assassinated. These crown-carriers have the vertigo. And there is good reason therefor. If a European war breaks out, immediately the Revolution will raise its head in their own camp and devour them; if peace prevails, the pacific tide of civilization will rise higher and higher, and engulf their thrones. Proceed, children."