The Count of Plouernel had received only two slight wounds, but was severely bruised. In order to facilitate the staunching of the blood he had taken off his uniform.
Lebrenn found his guest standing in the middle of the apartment, pale and somber.
"Monsieur," said he, "my wounds are not serious enough to prevent me from leaving the house. I shall never forget your generous conduct towards me. Your conduct was all the more noble in view of what transpired between us yesterday morning. My only wish is to be able some day to return your generosity. That, I suppose, will be difficult, monsieur, seeing my party is vanquished, and you are the vanquishers. I was blind with regard to the actual state of public sentiment. This sudden Revolution opens my eyes. I realize it—yes, the day of the people's triumph has come. We had our day, as you said to me yesterday, monsieur; your turn has come."
"I think so too, monsieur. But now, allow me to advise you. It would not be prudent for you to go out in uniform. The popular effervescence has not yet cooled down. I shall supply you with a coat and hat, and, in the company of one of my friends, you will be able to return to your own residence without any difficulty, or running any danger."
"Monsieur! You can not mean that! To disguise myself—that would be cowardice!"
"If you please, monsieur! No exaggerated scruples! Have you not the consciousness of having fought with intrepidity to the very end?"
"Yes; but of having been disarmed—by—"
But the Count of Plouernel checked himself, and offering his hand to the merchant said:
"Pardon me, monsieur—I forgot myself; besides, I am vanquished. It shall be as you say. I shall take your advice. I shall assume the disguise without feeling that I am committing an act of cowardice. A man whose conduct is as worthy as yours must be a good judge in matters of honor."
A minute later the Count of Plouernel was in bourgeois dress, thanks to the clothes that the merchant lent him.