"Poor Septimine! And you—ill-starred Broute-Saule!"
Lebrenn turned away his head in sadness, and long remained pensive. When he again raised his eyes they fell upon another portrait. That one was dated 1237. It represented a warrior with close-clipped hair, a long red beard, and armed cap-a-pie. From his shoulders hung the red cloak with the white cross of the Crusaders.
"Ah!" came from the linendraper with a fresh gesture of disgust and indignation—"the Red Monk!"
And he passed his hand over his eyes as if to drive away the hideous vision.
Soon, however, Lebrenn's face brightened up. He heaved a sigh of relief, as if pleasant thoughts had succeeded the painful ones of just before. His eyes rested delighted, almost moved with affection upon a portrait dated 1463, and bearing the name of Gonthram XII, Sire of Plouernel.
This portrait represented a young man of thirty years of age. He was clad in black velvet and wore the gold collar of the Order of St. Michael. A more sympathetic face it would be difficult to conceive. The looks, and the smile that flitted over the lips of this personage, were expressive of touching melancholy.
"Oh!" said Lebrenn, "the sight of this one rests my mind—calms it—consoles it. Thanks to God, he is not the only one who fell short of the hereditary wickedness of his stock!"
Lebrenn's meditations were interrupted by the entrance of the Count of Plouernel.
Lebrenn was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he started at the entrance of the Count into the hall. Despite his self-control, the linendraper, the descendant of Joel, whose family had, across the ages, so often encountered that of Neroweg in deadly feud, could not help betraying a certain degree of emotion at finding himself face to face with a descendant of this ancient family. Moreover, it should be stated that Lebrenn had been informed by Jeanike of the colonel's frequent peering through the glass windows of his shop. Nevertheless, so far from seeming concerned or irritated, Lebrenn assumed an air of naive and embarrassed simplicity, which the Count of Plouernel attributed to the respectful deference that he would naturally inspire in a resident of St. Denis Street.
The Count, accordingly, addressed the merchant in an accent of patronizing familiarity, pointing him to an easychair, while he let himself down in another.