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

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Looks about for asylum,

      Arrives at the church-door of the Abbey.

      He peeps through the key-hole.

      He sees a small taper burning;

      He sees monks digging at the foot of the altar;

      He sees the young girl lying prostrate,

      Her little bare feet tied together;

      He hears her, desolate, moaning, lamenting,

      Begging for mercy.

      "Well, now, my lassy," asked Gildas as he shook his head warningly, "is not that a terrible story? Did I not tell you that those helmet-wearers were ever prowling around young girls like so many ravishing sparrow-hawks? But Jeanike, what are you pondering? You do not answer me. You seem steeped in revery."

      "It is, indeed, quite extraordinary, Gildas. Was that bandit of a red monk named the Sire of Plouernel?"

      "Yes."

      "Often have I heard Monsieur Lebrenn mention the name of that family as if he had some cause of complaint against them, and say, whenever he referred to some wicked man: He must be a son of Plouernel!' as one would say: 'He must be a son of the devil!'"

      "That is a puzzle – a puzzling house this is," remarked Gildas meditatively, and even in a tone of uneasiness. "To think of Monsieur Lebrenn having complaint against the family of a red monk, who has been dead eight or nine hundred years. All the same, Jeanike, I hope the story may stand you in good stead."

      "Go to, Gildas!" exclaimed Jeanike, laughing. "Do you imagine there are any red monks in St. Denis Street, and that they carry off young girls in omnibuses?"

      As Jeanike was saying this, a valet in morning livery stepped into the shop and asked for Monsieur Lebrenn.

      "He is not in," said Gildas.

      "Then, my good lad," answered the valet, "you will please tell your master that the colonel expects to see him this morning, before noon, to settle with him a matter about some linen that he spoke about with your mistress yesterday. Here is my master's address," added the valet, placing a visiting card upon the counter. "Above all be certain to urge your master to be punctual. The colonel does not like to be kept waiting."

      The valet left. Gildas took up the card mechanically, read it and cried out, turning pale:

      "By St. Anne of Auray! It is incredible – "

      "What is it, Gildas?"

      "Read, Jeanike!"

      And with a trembling hand he reached out the card to the young girl who read:

      "A puzzling, a fear-inspiring house this is!" Gildas repeated several times, raising his hands to heaven, while Jeanike herself looked as astonished and almost as frightened as the young shop-assistant.

      CHAPTER II.

      GEORGE DUCHENE

      While the events narrated in the preceding chapter were happening in the shop of Monsieur Lebrenn the linendraper, another scene was taking place at almost the same hour on the fifth story of an old house, opposite the one which the Breton merchant occupied.

      I shall take my reader into a modest little room that is fitted out with extreme neatness; an iron bedstead, a wardrobe, two chairs and a table above which stood a shelf filled with books – such was its furniture. At the head of the bed hung from the wall a species of trophy, consisting of a military cap and two light infantry under-officer's epaulettes, above which, spread in a black frame, was an honorable discharge from service. In a corner of the chamber, and disposed upon a board, were several carpenter's tools.

      Upon the bed lay a freshly furbished carbine, and upon a little table a little heap of balls, a gunpowder pouch, and a mold to prepare cartridges in, a number of which had already been gotten ready.

      The tenant of the apartment, a young man of about twenty-six, with a virile and handsome face, and wearing a mechanic's blouse, was already up. With his elbows leaning on the sill of his attic window, he seemed to be looking intently at the house of Monsieur Lebrenn, especially at one of the four windows, between two of which the famous sign of The Sword of Brennus was fastened.

      That one particular window, furnished with very white curtains closely drawn together, presented nothing remarkable to the sight, except for a wooden box, painted green and daintily wrought with ovolos and other carvings, that filled the full width of the outer sill and contained several winter heliotropes besides some СКАЧАТЬ