Some wore the cuirass of knights, others the white cross and red cloak of the Templars, others the civilian dress of noblemen, still others the ermine of a peer of France, or the purple of the Princes of the Church.
It was likewise with the women. They wore monastic garbs, and court costumes. But, whether it was that each painter had scrupulously reproduced nature, or that they yielded to the requirements of a family who held it a point of honor to make manifest an uninterrupted racial affiliation in their line of descent, the generic type of the several faces was reproduced in all. Some in beauty, others in ugliness, all by the marked distance between the eyes, together with the pronounced hook of the nose, recalled the bird of prey. Similarly, what by common accord has been called the Bourbon type, which bears some resemblance to the ovine breed, is visibly perpetuated in the house of the Capets. Similarly, also, almost all the descendants of the house of Rohan had, it is said, an erect tuft of hair that was long spoken of as the Rohan crest.
As with almost all ancient family paintings, the Plouernel coat-of-arms and the name of the original represented in the picture were designed in a corner of the canvas. For instance, there were the names of Gonthram V, Sire of Plouernel; Gonthram IX, Count of Plouernel; Hildeberta, Lady of Plouernel; Meroflede, Abbess of Meriadek in Plouernel; and so on, the names of the descendants, men and women, of the Plouernel lineage.
As he contemplated these family portraits Marik Lebrenn experienced a singular mixture of curiosity, bitterness, and sentiments rather sad than wrathful. He moved from one to the other of the portraits as if they awakened a thousand memories within him. His eyes would rest meditatively upon the motionless faces, mute as those of specters. Several of the personages seemed to draw his attention violently. One of them, evidently painted from indications or traditions transmitted subsequent to the date—the year 297—that the portrait bore, must have been the founder of this old house. The corner of the canvas bore the name Gonthram Neroweg.
This personage was of colossal stature. His copper-red hair, combed back Chinese style and held together on the top of his head with a gold band, fell backward over his shoulders like the plume of a helmet. His cheeks and chin were closely shaven, but a long moustache, as red as his hair, drooped down to his chest, which was tattooed in blue and was partly covered by a species of plaid or mantle barred yellow and red. A more savage and ferocious face than that of this first of the Nerowegs can not be easily imagined.
Undoubtedly, at the sight of this portrait, cruel thoughts agitated the linendraper. After long contemplating it Marik Lebrenn could not refrain from shaking his fist at him. It was an involuntary and childish gesture, that he quickly felt ashamed of.
The second portrait that likewise seemed to impress the linendraper keenly represented a woman clad in monastic garb. The picture bore the date of 729, and the name of Meroflede, Abbess of Meriadek in Plouernel. It seemed a singular detail, but this woman held, in one hand, an abbatial crosier, and, in the other, a naked and bloodstained sword, meant, undoubtedly, to convey the idea that the weapon did not always rest inactive in its sheath. The woman was handsome, but of a haughty and sinister beauty, a beauty that betrayed a violent temperament. Her features bore the stamp of that lassitude that excesses leave in their train. Her head was enveloped in long white and black veils. Her large grey-green eyes sparkled under their thick red brows. Her blood-red lips expressed at once wickedness and sensuousness. Finally, the crosier and the bloody sword in the hands of an abbess imparted to the portrait a weird, almost shocking appearance.
Lebrenn contemplated the image with disgust and horror, and muttered to himself:
"Oh, Meroflede! Noble Abbess, consecrated by Satan! Messalina and Fredegonde were immaculate virgins beside you, Marshal Retz a lamb, and his infamous castle a sanctuary beside your damnable cloister!"
Emitting a sigh of sorrow and raising his eyes to heaven as if invoking its mercy for the victims of Meroflede, he exclaimed: