At that moment a side door opened and Lebrenn saw a tall man in the uniform of Brigadier General—blue coat, gold epaulettes and dark brown trousers—enter the apartment.

At the sight of the staff officer, Lebrenn was seized with surprise, sat up straight, and cried:

"Monsieur Plouernel!"

"Who did not forget the evening of February 23, 1848, monsieur," answered the General, stepping forward, and cordially extending his hand to Lebrenn. The latter took the proffered hand, and, while doing so, saw and considered the meaning of the two silver stars that ornamented the Count of Plouernel's epaulettes. With a smile of good-natured irony the merchant replied:

"You have become a General in the service of the Republic, monsieur, and I a galley-slave! You must admit, this is piquant."

The Count of Plouernel contemplated the merchant with astonishment. He had expected to see him either utterly dejected, or in a state of violent indignation. He found him calm, smiling and witty.

"Well, monsieur," proceeded Lebrenn, keeping his seat while the General, standing before him, continued to contemplate the man with increasing wonderment. "Well, monsieur, it is almost eighteen months since that evening of February 23, which it has pleased you to recall to memory! Who would then have thought that we would have met again in the position in which we find ourselves to-day!"

"Such fortitude!" exclaimed the Count of Plouernel. "This is heroism!"

"Not at all, monsieur—it is simply a matter of a clean conscience, and of confidence."

"Confidence!"