"Thank God, at least in our days the struggle takes place without hatred," replied the young man. "The soldier fights in the name of discipline—the people in the name of their rights. It is a deadly duel, but a loyal one, after which the surviving adversaries shake hands."
"But seeing these are survivers only, and I or my son may be laid low on the barricade," replied Monsieur Lebrenn with a benign smile, "there is one thing more I wish to impress upon you, my children. As you will see, where others turn pale with fright we will smile with serenity. Why? Because death does not exist for us; because, brought up in the belief of our fathers, instead of seeing in what is called the close of life only a dismal and fear-inspiring ending that plunges us into eternal darkness we see in death only the severance of the soul from the body, which emancipates the former, leaving it free to rejoin, or to wait for the sooner or later arrival of, those whom we love, and reunite with them on the other side of the veil, which, during our terrestrial life, hides from us the marvelous, the dazzling mysteries of our future lives, infinite lives as various as the divine power from which they emanate. To us, death is but a new birth."
"That is the picture I have of death," cried Sacrovir. "I feel sure I will die overmastered by curiosity. What new, wonderful, dazzling worlds there will be to visit!"
"Brother is right," put in the young girl with no less curiosity. "It must be beautiful to behold! novel! marvelous! And, besides, never more to be separated from our beloved ones but temporarily in all eternity! What a variety of infinite voyages there are to be made by us together in our new incarnations in the stars! Oh, when I think of that, mother, my head grows dizzy with impatience to see and know!"
"Go to, you inquisitive girl! Be not so impatient," answered Madam Lebrenn, smiling, and in a tone of affectionate reproach. "You know, when you were small, I always scolded you when, at your drawing lessons, you seemed to give less thought to the model that you were copying than to those that you were to copy later. Well, my dear child, do not allow your curiosity, however natural it may be, to ascertain what is on the other side of the curtain, as your father expresses it, to cause your mind to wander too much away from that which is on this side."
"Oh, you may be easy, mother, on that score!" answered the young girl affectionately. "On this side of the curtain are you and father and brother—quite enough to keep my mind from wandering."
"Just see how time is wasted in philosophizing!" interjected Lebrenn. "Jeanike will soon be calling us to supper, and still I shall not have told you a word of what I meant to confide to you. In case my curiosity should be satisfied before yours, my dear Henory," the merchant proceeded to say to his wife, pointing to a desk, "you will find there my last will. It is no secret to you. We have but one heart. But this," added Lebrenn, drawing a folded but not sealed letter from his pocket, "concerns our dear daughter. You are to give it to her after reading it yourself."
Velleda colored slightly, realizing that it referred to her marriage.
"As to you, my boy," proceeded the merchant, addressing his son, "take this key," and he detached it from his watch chain. "It is the key of the room with the closed windows which, until now, only your mother and I have entered. On the 11th of September of next year you will be twenty-one years of age. On that day, but not before, open the door. Among other things you will find a manuscript in the cabinet. It will impart to you the information of the immemorial tradition of our family—because," added Lebrenn interrupting himself with a smile, "we plebeians, we of the conquered race, we also have our archives, proletarian archives, often as glorious, you may believe me, as those of our conquerors. You will then learn, as I was saying, that, obedient to a family tradition, at the age of twenty-one the eldest son or, in default of a son, the eldest daughter, or our nearest of kin is to acquaint himself with our family archives and several relics that are gathered with them. And now, my loved ones," added Lebrenn in a moved voice, rising and throwing his arms around his wife and children, "a last embrace. Before to-morrow's sun goes down, we may be temporarily separated; the possibility of a separation ever saddens one a little."
It was a touching picture. Monsieur Lebrenn held his wife and children in a close embrace. His wife hung upon his neck, while with his right arm he held his daughter, and with his left his son. He pressed them all ardently to his breast, and they in turn held their father in their loving arms.