{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_31752/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_31752","id":"gutenberg_31752","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/31752","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Druids and druidism -- Fiction","Gaul -- History -- To 58 B.C. -- Fiction"],"text":"E-text prepared by Chuck Greif and the Project Gutenberg Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from scanned images of\npublic domain material generously made available by the Google Books\nLibrary Project (http://books.google.com/)\n\n\n\nNote: Images of the original pages are available through\n      the the Google Books Library Project. See\n      http://books.google.com/books?vid=MCYnAAAAMAAJ&id\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLD SICKLE\n\nOr\n\nHena, The Virgin of The Isle of Sen\n\nA Tale of Druid Gaul\n\nby\n\nEUGENE SUE\n\nTranslated from the Original French by Daniel De Leon\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNew York Labor News Company, 1904\n\nCopyright, 1904, by the\nNew York Labor News Company\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATOR'S PREFACE\n\n\n_The Gold Sickle; or, Hena the Virgin of the Isle of Sen_, is the\ninitial story of the series that Eugene Sue wrote under the collective\ntitle of _The Mysteries of the People; or, History of a Proletarian\nFamily Across the Ages_.\n\nThe scheme of this great work of Sue's was stupendously ambitious--and\nthe author did not fall below the ideal that he pursued. His was the\npurpose of producing a comprehensive \"universal history,\" dating from\nthe beginning of the present era down to his own days. But the history\nthat he proposed to sketch was not to be a work for closet study. It was\nto be a companion in the stream of actual, every-day life and struggle,\nwith an eye especially to the successive struggles of the successively\nruled with the successively ruling classes. In the execution of his\ndesign, Sue conceived a plan that was as brilliant as it was\npoetic--withal profoundly philosophic. One family, the descendants of a\nGallic chief named Joel, typifies the oppressed; one family, the\ndescendants of a Frankish chief and conqueror named Neroweg, typifies\nthe oppressor; and across and adown the ages, the successive struggles\nbetween oppressors and oppressed--the history of civilization--is thus\nrepresented in a majestic allegory. In the execution of this superb plan\na thread was necessary to connect the several epochs with one another,\nto preserve the continuity requisite for historic accuracy, and, above\nall, to give unity and point to the silent lesson taught by the\nunfolding drama. Sue solved the problem by an ingenious scheme--a series\nof stories, supposedly written from age to age, sometimes at shorter,\nother times at longer intervals, by the descendants of the ancestral\ntype of the oppressed, narrating their special experience and handing\nthe supplemented chronicle down to their successors from generation to\ngeneration, always accompanied with some emblematic relic, that\nconstitutes the first name of each story. The series, accordingly,\nthough a work presented in the garb of \"fiction,\" is the best universal\nhistory extant: Better than any work, avowedly on history, it\ngraphically traces the special features of class-rule as they have\nsucceeded one another from epoch to epoch, together with the special\ncharacter of the struggle between the contending classes. The \"Law,\"\n\"Order,\" \"Patriotism,\" \"Religion,\" \"Family,\" etc., etc., that each\nsuccessive tyrant class, despite its change of form, fraudulently sought\nrefuge in to justify its criminal existence whenever threatened; the\nvarying economic causes of the oppression of the toilers; the mistakes\nincurred by these in their struggles for redress; the varying fortunes\nof the conflict;--all these social dramas are therein reproduced in a\nmajestic series of \"novels\" covering leading and successive episodes in\nthe history of the race--an inestimable gift, above all to our own\ngeneration, above all to the American working class, the short history\nof whose country deprives it of historic back-ground.\n\nIt is not until the fifth story is reached--the period of the Frankish\nconquest of Gaul, 486 of the present era--that the two distinct streams\nof the typical oppressed and typical oppressor meet. But the four\npreceding ones are necessary, and preparatory for the main drama, that\nstarts with the fifth story and that, although carried down to the\nrevolution of 1848 which overthrew Louis Philippe in France, reaches its\ngrand climax in _The Sword of Honor; or, The Foundation of the French\nRepublic_, that is, the French Revolution. These stories are nineteen in\nnumber, and their chronological order is the following:\n\n     1. The Gold Sickle; or, Hena, the Virgin of the Isle of Sen;\n     2. The Brass Bell; or, The Chariot of Death;\n     3. The Iron Collar; or, Faustine and Syomara;\n     4. The Silver Cross; or, The Carpenter of Nazareth;\n     5. The Casque's Lark; or, Victoria, The Mother of the Fields;\n     6. The Poniard's Hilt; or, Karadeucq and Ronan;\n     7. The Branding Needle; or, The Monastery of Charolles;\n     8. The Abbatial Crosier; or, Bonaik and Septimine;\n     9. Carlovingian Coins; or, The Daughters of Charlemagne;\n    10. The Iron Arrow-Head; or, The Maid of the Buckler;\n    11. The Infant's Skull; or, The End of the World;\n    12. The Pilgrim's Shell; or, Fergan the Quarryman;\n    13. The Iron Pincers; or, Mylio and Karvel;\n    14. The Iron Trevet; or, Jocelyn the Champion;\n    15. The Executioner's Knife; or, Joan of Arc;\n    16. The Pocket Bible; or, Christian the Printer;\n    17. The Blacksmith's Hammer; or, The Peasant-Code;\n    18. The Sword of Honor; or, The Foundation of the French Republic;\n    19. The Galley-Slave's Ring; or, The Family of Lebrenn.\n\nLong and effectually has the influence of the usurping class in the\nEnglish-speaking world succeeded in keeping this brilliant torch that\nEugene Sue lighted, from casting its rays across the path of the\nEnglish-speaking peoples. Several English translations were attempted\nbefore this, in England and this country, some fifty years ago. They\nwere all fractional: they are all out of print now: most of them are not\nto be found even in public libraries of either England or America, not a\nwrack being left to them, little more than a faint tradition. Only two\nof the translations are not wholly obliterated. One of them was\npublished by Truebner & Co. jointly with David Nutt, both of London, in\n1863; the other was published by Clark, 448 Broome street, New York, in\n1867. The former was anonymous, the translator's identity being\nindicated only with the initials \"K. R. H. M.\" It contains only eight of\nthe nineteen stories of the original, and even these are avowedly\nabridgments. The latter was translated by Mary L. Booth, and it broke\noff before well under way--extinguished as if snuffed off by a gale.\nEven these two luckier fragmentary translations, now surviving only as\ncurios in a few libraries, attest the vehemence and concertedness of the\neffort to suppress this great gift of Sue's intellect to the human race.\nIt will be thus no longer. _The Mysteries of the People; or, History of\na Proletarian Family Across the Ages_ will henceforth enlighten the\nEnglish-speaking toiling masses as well.\n\nDANIEL DE LEON.\n\nNew York, May 1, 1904.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX.\n\n\nTranslator's Preface                           iii\n\nChapter 1. The Guest                             1\n\nChapter 2. A Gallic Homestead                   11\n\nChapter 3. Armel and Julyan                     20\n\nChapter 4. The Story of Albrege                 27\n\nChapter 5. The Story of Syomara                 33\n\nChapter 6. The Story of Gaul                    39\n\nChapter 7. \"War! War! War!\"                     45\n\nChapter 8. \"Farewell!\"                          53\n\nChapter 9. The Forest of Karnak                 66\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE GUEST.\n\n\nHe who writes this account is called Joel, the brenn[A] of the tribe of\nKarnak; he is the son of Marik, who was the son of Kirio, the son of\nTiras, the son of Gomer, the son of Vorr, the son of Glenan, the son of\nErer, the son of Roderik chosen chief of the Gallic army that, now two\nhundred and seventy-seven years ago, levied tribute upon Rome.\n\n[A] Gallic word for chief.\n\nJoel (why should I not say so?) feared the gods, he was of a right\nheart, a steady courage and a cheerful mind. He loved to laugh, to tell\nstories, and above all to hear them told, like the genuine Gaul that he\nwas.\n\nAt the time when Caesar invaded Gaul (may his name be accursed!), Joel\nlived two leagues from Alre, not far from the sea and the isle of\nRoswallan, near the edge of the forest of Karnak, the most celebrated\nforest of Breton Gaul.\n\nOne evening towards nightfall--the evening before the anniversary of the\nday when Hena, his daughter, his well-beloved daughter was born unto\nhim--it is now eighteen years ago--Joel and his eldest son Guilhern were\nreturning home in a chariot drawn by four of those fine little Breton\noxen whose horns are smaller than their ears. Joel and his son had been\nlaying marl on their lands, as is usually done in the autumn, so that\nthe lands may be in good condition for seed-time in the spring. The\nchariot was slowly climbing up the hill of Craig'h at a place where that\nmountainous road is narrowed between two rocks, and from where the sea\nis seen at a distance, and still farther away the Isle of Sen--the\nmysterious and sacred isle.\n\n\"Father,\" Guilhern said to Joel, \"look down there below on the flank of\nthe hill. There is a rider coming this way. Despite the steepness of the\ndescent, he has put his horse to a gallop.\"\n\n\"As sure as the good Elldud invented the plow, that man will break his\nneck.\"\n\n\"Where can he be riding to in such a hurry? The sun is going down; the\nwind blows high and threatens a storm; and that road that leads to the\ndesert strand--\"\n\n\"Son, that man is not of Breton Gaul. He wears a furred cap and a shaggy\ncoat, and his tanned-skin hose are fastened with red bands.\"\n\n\"A short axe hangs at his right and he has a long knife in a sheath at\nhis left.\"\n\n\"His large black horse does not seem to stumble in the descent.... Where\ncan he be going in such a hurry?\"\n\n\"Father, the man must have lost his way.\"\n\n\"Oh, my son, may Teutates hear you! We shall tender our hospitality to\nthe rider. His dress tells he is a stranger. What beautiful stories will\nhe not be able to tell us of his country and his travels!\"\n\n\"May the divine Ogmi, whose words bind men in golden chains, be\npropitious to us, father! It is long since any strange story-teller has\nsat at our hearth.\"\n\n\"Besides, we have had no news of what is going on elsewhere in Gaul.\"\n\n\"Unfortunately so!\"\n\n\"Oh, my son, if I were all-powerful as Hesus, I would have a new\nstory-teller every evening at supper.\"\n\n\"I would send men traveling everywhere, and have them return and tell\ntheir adventures.\"\n\n\"And if I had the power of Hesus, what wonderful adventures would I not\nprovide for my travelers so as to increase the interest in their stories\non their return.\"\n\n\"Father, the rider is coming close to us!\"\n\n\"Yes, he reins in because the road is here narrow, and we bar his\npassage with our chariot. Come, Guilhern, the moment is favorable; the\npassenger must have lost his way; let us offer him hospitality for\nto-night. We shall then keep him to-morrow, and perhaps several other\ndays. We shall have done him a good turn, and he will give us the news\nfrom Gaul and of the other countries that he has visited.\"\n\n\"Besides, it will be a great joy to my sister Hena who is to come home\nto-morrow for the feast of her birthday.\"\n\n\"Oh, Guilhern, I never thought of the pleasure that my beloved daughter\nwill have listening to the stranger! He must be our guest!\"\n\n\"That he shall be, father! Indeed, he shall!\" answered Guilhern\nresolutely.\n\nJoel and his son alighted from the chariot, and advanced towards the\nrider. Once close to him, both were struck with the majesty of the\nstranger's looks. Nothing haughtier than his eyes, more masculine than\nhis face, more worthy than his bearing. On his forehead and on one cheek\nwere visible the traces of two wounds only freshly healed. To judge by\nhis dauntless appearance, the rider must have been one of those chiefs\nwhom the tribes elect from time to time to lead them in battle. Joel and\nhis son were all the more anxious to have him accept their hospitality.\n\n\"Friend traveler,\" said Joel, \"night is upon us; you have lost your way;\nthe road you are on leads nowhere but to the desert strands; the tide\nwill soon be washing over them because the wind is blowing high. To keep\non your route by night would be dangerous. Come to my house. You may\nresume your journey to-morrow.\"\n\n\"I have not lost my way; I know where I am going to; and I am in a\nhurry. Turn your oxen aside; make room for me to pass,\" was the brusque\nanswer of the rider, whose forehead was wet with perspiration from the\nhurry of his course. By his accent he seemed to be from central Gaul,\ntowards the Loire. After having thus addressed Joel, he struck his\nlarge black horse with both heels in the flanks and tried to draw still\nnearer to the oxen that now completely barred his passage.\n\n\"Friend traveler, did you not hear me?\" rejoined Joel. \"I told you that\nthis road led only to the seashore, that night was on, and that I offer\nyou my house.\"\n\nThe stranger, however, beginning to wax angry, replied: \"I do not need\nyour hospitality.... Draw your oxen aside.... Do you not see that the\nrocks leave me no passage either way?... Hurry up; I am in haste--\"\n\n\"Friend,\" said Joel, \"you are a stranger; I am of this country; it is my\nduty to prevent you from going astray.... I shall do my duty--\"\n\n\"By Ritha-Gaur, who made himself a blouse out of the beard of the kings\nhe shaved!\" cried the stranger, now in towering rage. \"I have traveled a\ndeal since my beard began to grow, have seen many countries, many\npeoples and many strange customs, but never yet have I come across two\nfools like these!\"\n\nLearning from the mouth of the stranger himself that he had seen many\ncountries, many peoples and many strange customs, Joel and his son, both\nof whom were passionately fond of hearing stories, concluded that many\nand charming must be the ones the stranger could tell, and they felt all\nthe more desirous of securing such a guest. Accordingly, so far from\nturning the chariot aside, Joel advanced close to the rider, and said to\nhim with the sweetest voice that he could master, his natural voice\nbeing rather rough:\n\n\"Friend, you shall go no further! I wish to be respectful to the gods,\nabove all to Teutates, the god of travelers, and shall therefore keep\nyou from going astray by making you spend a good night under a good\nroof, instead of allowing you to wander about the strand, where you\nwould run the risk of being drowned in the rising tide.\"\n\n\"Take care!\" replied the unknown rider carrying his hand to the axe that\nhung from his belt. \"Take care!... If you do not forthwith turn your\noxen aside, I shall make a sacrifice to the gods, and shall join you to\nthe offering!\"\n\n\"The gods cannot choose but protect such a worshipper as yourself,\"\nanswered Joel, who, smiling, had passed a few words in a low voice to\nhis son. \"The gods will prevent you from spending the night on the\nstrand.... You'll see--\"\n\nFather and son precipitated themselves unexpectedly upon the traveler.\nEach took him by a leg, and both being large and robust men, raised him\nerect over his saddle, giving at the same time a thump with their knees\nto his horse's belly. The animal ran ahead, and Joel and Guilhern\nrespectfully lowered the rider on his feet to the ground. Now in a wild\nrage, the traveler tried to resist, but before he could draw his knife\nhe was held fast by Joel and Guilhern, one of whom produced a strong\nrope with which they firmly tied the stranger's feet and hands--all of\nwhich was done with great mildness and affability on the part of the\nstory-greedy father and son, who despite the furious wrestling of the\nstranger, deposited him on the chariot with increasing respect and\npoliteness, seeing they were increasingly struck by the virile dignity\nof his face.\n\nGuilhern then mounted the traveler's horse and followed the chariot that\nJoel led, urging on the oxen with his goad. They were in earnest haste\nto reach the shelter of their house: the gale increased; the roar of the\nwaves was heard dashing upon the rocks along the coast; streaks of\nlightning glistened through the darkening clouds; all the signs\nportended a stormy night.\n\nAll these threatening signs notwithstanding, the unknown rider seemed\nnowise thankful for the hospitality that Joel and his son had pressed\nupon him. Extended on the bottom of the chariot he was pale with rage.\nHe ground his teeth and puffed at his mouth. But keeping his anger to\nhimself he said not a word. Joel (it must be admitted) passionately\nloved a story, but he also passionately loved to talk. He turned to the\nstranger:\n\n\"My guest, for such you are now, I give thanks to Teutates, the god of\ntravelers, for having sent me a guest. You should know who I am. Yes, I\nmust tell you who I am, seeing you are to sit down at my hearth;\" and\nunaffected by the stranger's gesture of anger, which seemed to say he\ncared not to know who Joel was, the latter proceeded:\n\n\"My name is Joel ... I am the son of Marik, who was the son of Kirio ...\nKirio was the son of Tiras ... Tiras was the son of Gomer ... Gomer was\nthe son of Vorr ... Vorr was the son of Glenan ... Glenan, son of Erer,\nwho was the son of Roderik, chosen brenn of the confederated Gallic\narmy, who two hundred and seventy-six years ago levied tribute upon Rome\nin order to punish the Romans for their treachery. I have been chosen\nbrenn of my tribe, which is the tribe of Karnak. From father to son we\nhave been peasants; we cultivate our fields as best we can, following\nthe example left by Coll to our ancestors.... We sow more wheat and\nbarley than rye and oats.\"\n\nThe stranger continued nursing his rage rather than paying any attention\nto these details. Joel continued imperturbably:\n\n\"Thirty-two years ago, I married Margarid, the daughter of Dorlern. I\nhave from her three sons and a daughter. The elder boy is there behind\nus, leading your good black horse, friend guest ... his name is\nGuilhern. He and several other relatives help me in the cultivation of\nour field. I raise a good many black sheep that pasture on our meadows,\nas well as half-wild hogs, as vicious as wolves and who never sleep\nunder a roof.... We have some fine meadows in this valley of Alre.... I\nalso raise horses, colts of my spirited stallion Tom-Bras.[B] My son\namuses himself raising war and hunting dogs. The hunting dogs are of the\nbreed of a greyhound named Tyntammar; the ones destined for war are the\nwhelps of a large mastiff named Deber-Trud.[C] Our horses and our dogs\nare so renowned that people come more than twenty leagues from here to\nbuy them. So you see, my guest, that you might have fallen into a worse\nhouse.\"\n\n[B] Ardent.\n\n[C] Man-eater.\n\nThe stranger emitted a sigh of suppressed rage, bit what he could reach\nof his long blonde mustache and raised his eyes to heaven.\n\nJoel proceeded while pricking his oxen:\n\n\"Mikael, my second son, is an armorer at Alre, four leagues from\nhere.... He does not fashion war implements only, but also plow-coulters\nand long Gallic scythes and axes that are highly prized, because he\ndraws his iron from the mountains of Arres.... But there is more, friend\ntraveler.... Mikael does other things besides. Before establishing\nhimself at Alre, he was at Bourges and worked with one of our parents\nwho is a descendant of the first artisan who ever conceived the idea of\nalloying iron and copper with block-tin, a composition in which the\nartisans of Bourges excel.... Thus my son Mikael came away a worthy\npupil of his masters. Oh, if you only saw the things he turns out! You\nwould think the horse's bits, the chariot ornaments, the superb casques\nof war that Mikael manufactures to be of silver! He has just finished a\ncasque the point of which represents an elk's head with its horns....\nThere is nothing more magnificent!\"\n\n\"O!\" murmured the stranger between his teeth, \"how true is the saying:\n'The Sword of a Gaul kills but once, his tongue massacres you without\nend!'\"\n\n\"Friend guest, so far I can bestow no praise upon your tongue, which is\nas silent as a fish's. But I shall await your leisure, when it will be\nyour turn to tell me who you are, whence you come, where you are going\nto, what you have seen in your travels, what wonderful people you have\nmet, and the latest news from the sections of Gaul that you have\ntraversed. While waiting for your narratives, I shall finish informing\nyou about myself and family.\"\n\nAt this threat the stranger contorted his members in an effort to snap\nhis bonds; he failed; the rope was staunch, and Joel as well as his son\nmade perfect knots.\n\n\"I have not yet spoken to you of my third son Albinik the sailor,\"\ncontinued Joel. \"He traffics with the island of Great Britanny, as well\nas all the ports of Gaul, and he goes as far as Spain carrying Gascony\nwines and salted provisions from Aquitaine.... Unfortunately he has been\nat sea a long time with his lovely wife Meroe; so you will not see them\nthis evening at my house. I told you that besides three sons I had a\ndaughter ... as to her! Oh, as to her!... See here,\" added Joel with an\nair that was at once boastful and tender, \"she is the pearl of the\nfamily.... It is not I only who say so, my wife also, my sons, my whole\ntribe says the same thing. There is but one voice to sing the praises of\nHena, the daughter of Joel ... of Hena, one of the virgins of the Isle\nof Sen.\"\n\n\"What!\" cried the traveler sitting up with a start, the only motion\nallowed to him by his bonds, that held his feet tied and his arms\npinioned behind him. \"What? Your daughter? Is she one of the virgins of\nthe Isle of Sen?\"\n\n\"That seems to astonish and somewhat mollify you, friend guest!\"\n\n\"Your daughter?\" the stranger proceeded, as if unable to believe what he\nheard. \"Your daughter?... Is she one of the nine druid priestesses of\nthe Isle of Sen?\"\n\n\"As true as that to-morrow it will be eighteen years since she was born!\nWe have been preparing to celebrate her birthday, and you may attend the\nfeast. The guest seated at our hearth is of our family.... You will see\nmy daughter. She is the most beautiful, the sweetest, the wisest of her\ncompanions, without thereby detracting from any of them.\"\n\n\"Very well, then,\" brusquely replied the unknown, \"I shall pardon you\nthe violence you committed upon me.\"\n\n\"Hospitable violence, friend.\"\n\n\"Hospitable, or not, you prevented me by force from proceeding to the\nwharf of Erer, where a boat awaited me until sunset, to take me to the\nIsle of Sen.\"\n\nAt these words Joel broke out laughing.\n\n\"What are you laughing about?\" asked the stranger.\n\n\"If you were to tell me that a boat with the head of a dog, the wings of\na bird and the tail of a fish was waiting for you to take you to the\nsun, I would laugh as loud, and for the same reason. You are my guest; I\nshall not insult you by telling you that you lie. But I will tell you,\nfriend, you are joking when you talk of a boat that is to take you to\nthe Isle of Sen. No man, excepting the very oldest druids, have ever or\never will set foot on the Isle of Sen.\"\n\n\"And when you go there to see your daughter?\"\n\n\"I do not step on the isle. I stop at the little island of Kellor. There\nI wait for my daughter, and she goes there to meet me.\"\n\n\"Friend Joel,\" said the traveler, \"you have so willed it that I be your\nguest; I am that, and, as such, I ask a service of you. Take me\nto-morrow in your boat to the little island of Kellor.\"\n\n\"Do you know that the ewaghs watch day and night?\"\n\n\"I know it. It was one of them who was to come for me this evening at\nthe wharf of Erer to conduct me to Talyessin the oldest of the druids,\nwho, at this hour, is at the Isle of Sen with his wife Auria.\"\n\n\"That is true!\" exclaimed Joel much surprised. \"The last time my\ndaughter came home she said that Talyessin was on the isle since the new\nyear, and that the wife of Talyessin tendered her a mother's care.\"\n\n\"You see, you may believe me, friend Joel. Take me to-morrow to the\nisland of Kellor; I shall see one of the ewaghs.\"\n\n\"I consent. I shall take you to the island of Kellor.\"\n\n\"And now you may loosen my bonds. I swear by Hesus that I shall not seek\nto elude your hospitality.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" responded Joel, loosening the stranger's bonds; \"I trust my\nguest's promise.\"\n\nWhile this conversation proceeded it had grown pitch dark. But the\ndarkness notwithstanding and the difficulties of the road, the chariot,\nconducted by the sure hand of Joel, rolled up before his house. His son,\nGuilhern, who, mounted on the stranger's horse, had followed the van,\ntook an ox-horn that was opened at both ends, and using it for a trumpet\nblew three times. The signal was speedily answered by a great barking of\ndogs.\n\n\"Here we are at home!\" said Joel to the stranger. \"Be not alarmed at the\nbarking of the dogs. Listen! That loud voice that dominates all the\nothers is Deber-Trud's, from whom descends the valiant breed of war dogs\nthat you will see to-morrow. My son Guilhern will take your horse to the\nstable. The animal will find a good shelter and plenty of provender.\"\n\nAt the sound of Guilhern's trump, one of the family came out of the\nhouse holding a resin torch. Guided by the light, Joel led his oxen and\nthe chariot entered the yard.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nA GALLIC HOMESTEAD.\n\n\nLike all other rural homes, Joel's was spacious and round of shape. The\nwalls consisted of two rows of hurdles, the space between which was\nfilled with a mixture of beaten clay and straw; the inside and outside\nof the thick wall was plastered over with a layer of fine and fattish\nearth, which, when dry, was hard as sandstone. The roofing was large and\nprojecting. It consisted of oaken joists joined together and covered\nwith a layer of seaweed laid so thick that it was proof against water.\n\nOn either side of the house stood the barns destined for the storage of\nthe harvest, and also for the stables, the sheepfolds, the kennels, the\nstorerooms and the washrooms.\n\nThese several structures formed an oblong square that surrounded a large\nyard, closed up at night with a massive gate. On the outside, a strong\npalisade, raised on the brow of a deep ditch, enclosed the system of\nbuildings, leaving between it and them an alley about four feet wide.\nTwo large and ferocious war mastiffs were let loose during the night in\nthe vacant space. The palisade had an exterior door that corresponded\nwith an interior one. All were locked at night.\n\nThe number of men, women and children--all more or less near relatives\nof Joel--who cultivated fields in common with him, was considerable.\nThese lodged in the houses attached to the principal building, where\nthey met at noon and in the evening to take their joint meals.\n\nOther homesteads, similarly constructed and occupied by numerous\nfamilies who cultivated lands in common, lay scattered here and there\nover the landscape and composed the _ligniez_, or tribe of Karnak, of\nwhich Joel was chosen chief.\n\nUpon his entrance in the yard of his homestead, Joel was received with\nthe caresses of his old war dog Deber-Trud, an animal of an iron grey\ncolor streaked with black, an enormous head, blood-shot eyes, and of\nsuch a high stature that in standing up to caress his master he placed\nhis front paws upon Joel's shoulders. He was a dog of such boldness that\nhe once fought a monstrous bear of the mountains of Arres, and killed\nhim. As to his war qualities, Deber-Trud would have been worthy of\nfiguring with the war pack of Bithert, the Gallic chieftain who at sight\nof a small hostile troop said disdainfully: \"They are not enough for a\nmeal for my dogs.\"\n\nAs Deber-Trud looked over and smelled the traveler with a doubtful air,\nJoel said to the animal: \"Do you not see he is a guest whom I bring\nhome?\"\n\nAs if he understood the words, Deber-Trud ceased showing any uneasiness\nabout the stranger, and gamboled clumsily ahead of his master into the\nhouse. The house was partitioned into three sections of unequal size.\nThe two smaller ones, separated from each other and from the main hall\nby oaken panels, were destined, one for Joel and his wife, the other for\nHena, their daughter, when she came to visit the family. The vast hall\nbetween the two served as a dining-room, and in it were performed the\nnoon and evening in-door labors.\n\nWhen the stranger entered the hall, a large fire of beech wood,\nenlivened with dry brush wood and seaweed burned in the hearth, and with\nits brilliancy rendered superfluous the light of a handsome lamp of\nburnished copper that hung from three chains of the same metal. The lamp\nwas a present from Mikael the armorer.\n\nTwo whole sheep, impaled in long iron spits broiled before the hearth,\nwhile salmon and other sea fish boiled in a large pewter pot filled with\nwater, seasoned with vinegar, salt and caraway.\n\nThe panels were ornamented with heads of wolves, boars, cerfs and of two\nwild bulls called _urok_, an animal that began to be rare in the region;\nbeside them hung hunting weapons, such as bows, arrows and slings, and\nweapons of war, such as the _sparr_ and the _matag_, axes, sabres of\ncopper, bucklers of wood covered with the tough skin of seals, and long\nlances with iron heads, sharpened and barbed and provided with little\nbrass bells, intended to notify the enemy from afar that the Gallic\nwarrior approached, seeing that the latter disdains ambuscades, and\nloves to fight in the open. There were also fishing nets and harpoons to\nharpoon the salmon in the shallows when the tide goes out.\n\nTo the right of the main door stood a kind of altar, consisting of a\nblock of granite, surmounted and covered by large oak branches freshly\ncut. A little copper bowl lay on the stone in which seven twigs of\nmistletoe stood. From above, on the wall, the following inscription\nlooked down:\n\n          Abundance and Heaven\n        Are for the Just and the Pure.\n            He is Pure and Holy\n    Who Performs Celestial Works and Pure.\n\nWhen Joel stepped into the house, he approached the copper basin in\nwhich stood the seven branches of mistletoe and reverently put his lips\nto each. His guest followed his example, and then both walked towards\nthe hearth.\n\nAt the hearth was Mamm' Margarid, Joel's wife, with a distaff. She was\ntall of stature, and wore a short, sleeveless tunic of brown wool over a\nlong robe of grey with narrow sleeves, both tunic and robe being\nfastened around her waist with her apron string. A white cap, cut\nsquare, left exposed her grey hair, that parted over her forehead. Like\nmany other women of her kin, she wore a coral necklace round her neck,\nbracelets inwrought with garnets and other trinkets of gold and silver\nfashioned at Autun.\n\nAround Mamm' Margarid played the children of Guilhern and several other\nof her kin, while their young mothers busied themselves preparing\nsupper.\n\n\"Margarid,\" said Joel to his wife, \"I bring a guest to you.\"\n\n\"He is welcome,\" answered the woman without stopping to spin. \"The gods\nsend us a guest, our hearth is his own. The eve of my daughter's birth\nis propitious.\"\n\n\"May your children when they travel, be received as I am by you,\"\nanswered the stranger respectfully.\n\n\"But you do not yet know what kind of a guest the gods have sent us,\nMargarid,\" rejoined Joel; \"such a guest as one would request of Ogmi for\nthe long autumn and winter nights; a guest who in the course of his\ntravels has seen so many curious things and wonderful that a hundred\nevenings would not be too many to listen to his marvelous stories.\"\n\nHardly had Joel pronounced these words when, from Mamm' Margarid and the\nyoung mothers down to the little boys and girls, all looked at the\nstranger with the greed of curiosity, expectant of the marvelous stories\nhe was to tell.\n\n\"Are we to have supper soon, Margarid?\" asked Joel. \"Our guest is\nprobably as hungry as myself; I am hungry as a wolf.\"\n\n\"The folk have just gone out to fill the racks of the cattle,\" answered\nMargarid; \"they will be back shortly. If our guest is willing we shall\nbe pleased of his company at supper.\"\n\n\"I thank the wife of Joel, and shall wait,\" said the unknown.\n\n\"And while waiting,\" remarked Joel, \"you can tell us a story--\"\n\nBut the traveler interrupted his host and said smiling:\n\n\"Friend, as one cup serves for all, so does the same story serve for\nall.... The cup will shortly circulate from lip to lip, and the story\nfrom ear to ear.... But now tell me, what is that brass belt for that I\nsee hanging yonder?\"\n\n\"Have you not also in your country the belt of agility?\"\n\n\"Explain yourself, Joel.\"\n\n\"Here, with us, at every new moon, the lads of each tribe come to the\nchief and try on the belt, in order to prove that their girth has not\nbroadened with self-indulgence, and that they have preserved themselves\nagile and nimble. Those who cannot hitch the belt around themselves, are\nhissed, are pointed at with derision, and must pay a fine. Accordingly,\nall see to their stomachs lest they come to look like a leathern bottle\non two skittles.\"\n\n\"A good custom. I regret it fell into disuse in my province. And what is\nthe purpose of that big old trunk? It is of precious wood and seems to\nhave seen many years.\"\n\n\"Very many. That is the family trunk of triumph,\" answered Joel opening\nthe trunk, in which the stranger saw many whitened skulls. One of them,\nsawn in two, was mounted on a brass foot like a cup.\n\n\"These are, no doubt, the heads of enemies who have been killed by your\nfathers, friend Joel? With us this sort of family charnel houses has\nlong been abandoned.\"\n\n\"With us also. I preserve these heads only out of respect for my\nancestors. Since more than two hundred years, the prisoners of war are\nno longer mutilated. The habit existed in the days of the kings whom\nRitha-Gaur shaved of their hair, as you mentioned before, to make\nhimself a blouse out of their beards. Those were gay days of barbarism,\nwere those days of royalty. I heard my grandfather Kirio say that even\nas late as in the days of his father, Tiras, the men who went to war\nreturned to their tribes carrying the heads of their enemies stuck to\nthe points of their lances, or trailed by the hair from the\nbreast-plates of their horses. They were then nailed to the doors of the\nhouses for trophies, just as you see yonder on the wall the heads of\nwild animals.\"\n\n\"With us, in olden days, friend Joel, these trophies were also\npreserved, but preserved in cedar oil when they were the heads of a\nhostile chieftain.\"\n\n\"By Hesus! Cedar oil!... What magnificence!\" exclaimed Joel smiling.\n\"That is the way our wives reason: 'for good fish, good sauce.'\"\n\n\"These relics were with us, as with you, the book from which the young\nGaul learned of the exploits of his fathers. Often did the families of\nthe vanquished offer to ransom these spoils; but to relinquish for money\na head conquered by oneself or an ancestor was looked upon as an\nunpardonable crime of avarice and impiousness. I say with you, those\nbarbarous customs passed away with royalty, and with them the days when\nour ancestors painted their bodies blue and scarlet, and dyed their hair\nand beard with lime water to impart to them a copper-red hue.\"\n\n\"Without wronging their memory, friend guest, our ancestors must have\nbeen unpleasant beings to look upon, and must have resembled the\nfrightful red and blue dragons that ornament the prows of the vessels of\nthose savage pirates of the North that my son Albinik the sailor and his\nlovely wife Meroe have told us some curious tales about. But here are\nour men back from the stables; we shall not have to wait much longer for\nsupper. I see Margarid unspitting the lambs. You shall taste them,\nfriend, and see what a fine taste the salt meadows on which they browse\nimpart to their flesh.\"\n\nAll the men of the family of Joel who entered the hall wore, like him, a\nsleeveless blouse of coarse wool, through which the sleeves of their\njackets or white shirts were passed. Their breeches reached down to\ntheir ankles; and they were shod with low slippers. Several of these\nlaborers, just in from the fields, wore over their shoulders a cloak of\nsheep-skin, which they immediately took off. All wore woolen caps, long\nhair cut round, and bushy beards. The last two to enter held each other\nby the arm; they were especially handsome and robust.\n\n\"Friend Joel,\" inquired the stranger, \"who are those two young fellows?\nThe statues of the heathen god Mars are not better shaped, nor have so\nvaliant an aspect.\"\n\n\"They are two relatives of mine; two cousins, Julyan and Armel. They\nlove each other like brothers.... Quite recently an enraged bull rushed\nat Armel and Julyan saved Armel at the peril of his own life. Thanks to\nHesus we are not now in times of war. But should it be necessary to take\nup arms, Julyan and Armel have taken 'the pledge of brotherhood'.... But\nsupper is ready.... Come, yours is the seat of honor.\"\n\nJoel and the unknown guest drew near the table. It was round and raised\nsomewhat above the floor which was covered with fresh straw. All around\nthe table were seats bolstered with fragrant grass. The two broiled\nmuttons, now quartered, were served up in large platters of beechwood,\nwhite as ivory. There were also large pieces of salted pork and a smoked\nham of wild boar. The fish remained in the large pot that they had been\nboiled in.\n\nAt the place where Joel, the head of the family, took his seat, stood a\nhuge cup of plated copper that even two men could not have drained. It\nwas before that cup, which marked the place of honor, that the stranger\nwas placed with Joel at his left and Mamm' Margarid at his right.\n\nThe old men, the young girls and the children then ranked themselves\naround the table. The grown up and the young men sat down behind these\nin a second row, from which they rose from time to time to perform some\nservice, or, every time that, passing from hand to hand, beginning with\nthe stranger, the large cup was empty, to fill it from a barrel of\nhydromel, that was placed at a corner of the hall. Furnished with a\npiece of barley or wheat bread, everyone received or took a slice of\nbroiled or salted meat, which he cut up with his knife, or into which he\nbit freely without the help of knife.\n\nThe old war-dog Deber-Trud, enjoying the privileges of his age and long\nyears of service, lay at the feet of Joel, who did not forget his\nfaithful servitor.\n\nTowards the end of the meal, Joel having carved the wild boar ham,\ndetached the hoof, and following an ancient custom, said to his young\nrelative Armel, handing it to him:\n\n\"To you, Armel, belongs the bravest part! To you, the vanquisher in last\nevening's fight!\"\n\nAt the moment when, proud of being pronounced the bravest in the\npresence of the stranger, Armel was stretching out his hand to take the\nwild boar's hoof that Joel presented to him, an exceptionally short man\nin the family, nicknamed \"Stumpy\" by reason of his small stature,\nobserved aloud:\n\n\"Armel won in yesterday's fight because he was not fighting with Julyan.\nTwo bullocks of equal strength avoid and fear each other, and do not\nlock horns.\"\n\nFeeling humiliated at hearing it said of them, and before a stranger,\nthat they did not fight together because they were mutually afraid of\neach other, Julyan and Armel grew red in the face.\n\nWith sparkling eyes, Julyan cried: \"If I did not fight with Armel it was\nbecause someone else took my place; but Julyan fears Armel as little as\nArmel fears Julyan; and if you were but one inch taller, Stumpy, I would\nshow you on the spot that, beginning with you, I fear nobody--not even\nmy good brother Armel--\"\n\n\"Good brother Julyan!\" added Armel whose eyes also began to glisten, \"we\nshall have to prove to the stranger that we do not fear each other.\"\n\n\"Done, Armel--let's fight with sabres and bucklers.\"\n\nThe two friends reached out their hands to each other and pressed them\nwarmly. They entertained no rancor for each other; they loved each other\nas warmly as ever; the combat decided upon by them was a not uncommon\noutbreak of foolhardiness.\n\nJoel was not sorry at seeing his kin act bravely before his guest; and\nhis family shared his views.\n\nAt the announcement of the battle, everybody present, even the little\nchildren and young women and girls felt joyful; they clapped their hands\nsmiling and looked at each other proud of the good opinion that the\nunknown visitor was to form of the courage of their family.\n\nMamm' Margarid thereupon addressed the young men: \"The fight ends the\nmoment I lower my distaff.\"\n\n\"These children are feasting you at their best, friend guest,\" said Joel\nto the stranger; \"you will, in turn, have to feast them by telling them\nand all of us some of the marvelous things that you have seen in your\ntravels.\"\n\n\"I could not do else than pay in my best coin for your hospitality,\nfriend,\" answered the stranger. \"I shall tell you the stories.\"\n\n\"Let's hurry, brother Julyan,\" said Armel; \"I have a strong desire to\nhear the traveler. I can never get tired of listening to stories, but\nthe story-tellers are rare around Karnak.\"\n\n\"You see, friend,\" said Joel, \"with what impatience your stories are\nawaited. But before starting, and so as to give you strength, you shall\npresently drink to the victor with good wine of Gaul,\" and turning to\nhis son: \"Guilhern, fetch in the little keg of white wine from Beziers\nthat your brother Albinik brought us on his last trip; fill up the cup\nin honor of the traveler.\"\n\nWhen that was done, Joel said to Julyan and Armel:\n\n\"Now, boys, fall to with your sabres!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nARMEL AND JULYAN.\n\n\nThe numerous family of Joel, gathered in a semi-circle at one end of the\nspacious hall, impatiently awaited the combat, with Mamm' Margarid\nholding the place of honor. The stranger stood at her right, her husband\nat her left, and two of the smallest children before her on their knees.\nMargarid raised her distaff and gave the signal for the combat to begin;\nthe lowering of the distaff was to be the signal for the combat to end.\n\nJulyan and Armel stripped down to the waist, preserving their breeches\nonly. Again they clasped hands. Each thereupon slung on his left arm a\nbuckler of wood covered with seal-skin, armed himself with a heavy sabre\nof copper, and impetuously assailed each other, being all the more\nspurred by the presence of the stranger, before whom they were eager to\ndisplay their skill and valor. Joel's guest looked more highly delighted\nthan anyone else at the spectacle before him, and his face lighted with\nwarlike animation.\n\nJulyan and Armel were at it. Their eyes sparkled, not with hatred but\nwith foolhardiness. They exchanged no words of anger but of friendly\ncheer, all the while dealing out terrible blows that would have been\ndeadly had they not been skillfully parried. At every thrust,\nbrilliantly made, or dexterously avoided, the men, women and children in\nthe audience clapped their hands, and according as the combat ran,\ncried:\n\n\"_Her_ ... _her_ ... Julyan!\"\n\n\"_Her_ ... _her_ ... Armel!\"\n\nSuch was the effect of these cries, of the sight of the combat, of the\nclash of arms, that the huge mastiff Deber-Trud, the man-eater, felt\nthe ardor of battle seize also himself, and barked wildly looking up at\nhis master, who calmed and caressed him with his hand.\n\nPerspiration covered the young bodies of the handsome and robust Julyan\nand Armel. Each other's peers in courage, vigor and agility, neither had\nyet wounded the other.\n\n\"Let's hurry, brother Julyan!\" said Armel rushing on his companion with\nfresh impetus. \"Let us hurry to hear the pretty stories of the\nstranger.\"\n\n\"The plow can go no faster than the plowman, brother Armel,\" answered\nJulyan.\n\nWith these words, Julyan seized his sabre with both hands, stretched\nhimself at full length, and dealt so furious a stroke to his adversary\nthat, although the latter threw himself back and thereby softened the\nblow, his buckler flew into splinters and the weapon struck Armel in the\ntemple. The wounded man staggered for an instant and then fell flat upon\nhis back, amid the admiring cries of \"_Her_ ... _her_ ... Julyan!\" from\nthe enraptured by-standers among whom Stumpy was the loudest with the\ncry of \"_Her_ ... _her_!\"\n\nAfter lowering her distaff as a sign that the combat was over Mamm'\nMargarid stepped toward the wounded combatant to give him her attention,\nwhile Joel said to his guest, reaching him the cup:\n\n\"Friend guest, you shall drink this old wine to the triumph of Julyan.\"\n\n\"I drink to the triumph of Julyan and also to the valiant defeat of\nArmel!\" responded the stranger. \"The courage of the vanquished youth\nequals that of the vanquisher.... I have seen many a combat, but never\nhave I seen greater bravery and courage displayed! Glory to the family\nof Joel!... Glory to your tribe!\"\n\n\"Formerly,\" said Joel, \"these festive combats took place among us almost\nevery day. Now they are rarer; they have been replaced by wrestling\nmatches; but sabre combats better recall the habits of the old Gauls.\"\n\nMamm' Margarid shook her head after a second inspection of the wound,\nwhile Julyan steadying himself against the wall sought to hold up his\nfriend. One of the young women hurried with a casket of lint and salves,\nin which was also a little vial of mistletoe water. Armel's wound bled\ncopiously; it was staunched with difficulty; the wounded youth's face\nwas pale and his eyes closed.\n\n\"Brother Armel,\" said Julyan to him in a cheerful voice, on his knees\nbeside the prostrate Armel, \"do not break down for so little.... Each\nhas his day and his hour.... To-day you were wounded, to-morrow will be\nmy turn.... We fought bravely.... The stranger will not forget the young\nmen of Karnak and of the family of Joel, the brenn of the tribe.\"\n\nHis face down, his forehead bathed in cold perspiration, Armel seemed\nnot to hear the voice of his friend. Mamm' Margarid again shook her\nhead, ordered some burnt coal, that was brought her on a little flat\nstone and threw on it some of the pulverized mistletoe bark. A strong\nvapor rose from the little brasier, and Mamm' Margarid made Armel inhale\nit. A little after he opened his eyes, looked around as if he awoke from\na dream, and said feebly:\n\n\"The angel of death calls me.... I shall now live no longer here but\nyonder.... My father and mother will be surprised and pleased to see me\nso soon.... I also shall be happy to meet them.\"\n\nA second later he added regretfully:\n\n\"How I would have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!\"\n\n\"What, brother Armel!\" said Julyan, visibly astonished and grieved. \"Are\nyou to depart so soon from us? We were enjoying life so well\ntogether.... We swore brotherhood and never to leave each other!\"\n\n\"We did so swear, Julyan,\" Armel answered feebly, \"but it is otherwise\ndecreed.\"\n\nJulyan dropped his head upon his two hands and made no answer.\n\nMamm' Margarid, skillful in the art of tending wounds, an art that she\nlearned from a druid priestess her relative, placed her hand on Armel's\nheart. A few seconds later she said to those near her and who, together\nwith Joel and his guest, stood around:\n\n\"Teutates calls Armel away to take him to those who have preceded us. He\nwill soon depart. If any of us has any message for the loved ones who\nhave preceded us yonder, and wishes Armel to carry it--let him make\nhaste.\"\n\nMamm' Margarid thereupon kissed the forehead of the dying young man and\nsaid to him: \"Give to all the members of our family the kiss of\nremembrance and hope.\"\n\n\"I shall give them, Mamm' Margarid, the kiss of remembrance and hope in\nyour name,\" answered Armel in a fainting voice, and added again in a\npet, \"and yet I would so much have liked to hear the pretty stories of\nthe traveler!\"\n\nThese words seemed deeply to affect Julyan, who still holding his\nfriend's head looked down upon him with sadness.\n\nLittle Sylvest, the son of Guilhern, a child of rosy cheeks and golden\nhair, who held with one hand the hand of his mother Henory, advanced a\nlittle and addressing the dying relative said:\n\n\"I loved little Alanik very much; he went away last year.... Tell him\nthat little Sylvest always remembers him, and embrace him for me,\nArmel.\"\n\n\"I shall embrace little Alanik for you, little Sylvest,\" and Armel added\nagain, \"and yet I would have liked to hear the pretty stories of the\ntraveler!\"\n\nAnother man of Joel's family said to his expiring kinsman:\n\n\"I was a friend of Houarne of the tribe of Morlech, our neighbor. He was\nkilled defenceless, while asleep, a short time ago. Tell him, Armel,\nthat Daoulas, his murderer, was discovered, was tried and condemned by\nthe druids of Karnak and his sacrifice will soon take place. Houarne\nwill be pleased to learn of Daoulas' punishment.\"\n\nArmel signified that he would convey the message to Houarne.\n\nStumpy, who, not through wickedness but intemperate language, was the\ncause of Armel's death, also drew near with a message to the one about\nto depart, and said:\n\n\"You know that at the eighth face of this month's moon old Mark, who\nlives near Glen'han was taken ill; the angel of death told him also to\nprepare for a speedy departure. Old Mark was not ready. He wished to\nassist at the wedding of his daughter's daughter. Not being ready to go,\nold Mark bethought him of some one who might be ready to go in his place\nand that would satisfy the angel of death. He asked the druid, his\nphysician, if he knew of some 'substitute.' The druid answered him that\nGigel of Nouaren, a member of our tribe, would be available, that he\nmight consent to depart in the place of old Mark, and that he might be\ninduced to do so both out of kindness to Mark and to render himself\nagreeable to the gods, who are always pleased at the sight of such\nsacrifices. Gigel consented freely. Old Mark made him a present of ten\npieces of silver with the stamp of a horse's head, which Gigel\ndistributed among his friends before departing. He then cheerfully\nemptied his last cup and bared his breast to the sacred knife amid the\nchants of the bards. The angel of death accepted the substitute. Old\nMark attended the wedding of his daughter's daughter, and to-day he is\nin good health--\"\n\n\"Do you mean to say that you are willing to depart in my stead, Stumpy?\"\nasked the dying warrior. \"I fear it is now too late--\"\n\n\"No, no; I am not ready to depart in your stead,\" Stumpy hastened to\nanswer. \"I only wish to request you to return to Gigel three pieces of\nsilver that I owed him; I could not repay him sooner. I feared Gigel\nmight come and demand his money by moonlight in the shape of some\ndemon.\" Saying which Stumpy rummaged in his lamb-skin bag, took out\nthree pieces with the stamp of a horse's head, and placed them in the\npocket of Armel's breeches.\n\n\"I shall hand your three pieces of silver to Gigel,\" said Armel in a\nvoice now hardly audible; and for a last time he murmured at Julyan's\near: \"And yet ... I would ... have liked ... to hear ... the pretty\nstories ... of ... the traveler.\"\n\n\"Be at ease, brother Armel,\" Julyan answered him; \"I shall attentively\nlisten to the pretty stories so that I may remember them well; and\nto-morrow ... I shall depart and tell them to you.... I would weary here\nwithout you.... We swore brotherhood to each other, and never to be\nseparated; I shall follow you and continue to live yonder in your\ncompany.\"\n\n\"Truly ... you will come?\" said the dying youth, whom the promise seemed\nto render happy; \"will you come ... to-morrow?\"\n\n\"To-morrow, by Hesus.... I swear to you, Armel, I shall come.\"\n\nThe eyes of the whole family turned to Julyan at hearing the promise,\nand looked lovingly upon him. The wounded youth seemed the most pleased\nof all, and with his last breath said:\n\n\"So long, then, brother Julyan ... listen attentively ... to the\nstories.... And now ... farewell ... farewell ... to all of you of our\ntribe,\" and Armel sought to suit the motion of his hands to his words.\n\nAs loving relatives and friends crowd around one of their own when he is\nabout to depart on a long journey, during which he will meet people of\nwhom they all preserve a cherished remembrance, each now pressed the\nhand of Armel and gave him some tender commission for those of their\ntribe whom he was about to meet again.\n\nAfter Armel was dead, Joel closed the youth's eyes and had him taken to\nthe altar of grey stones, above which stood the copper bowl with the\nseven twigs of mistletoe.\n\nThe body was then covered with oak branches taken from the altar, so\nthat, instead of the corpse, only a heap of verdure met the eye, with\nJulyan seated close to it.\n\nFinally, the head of the family filled the large cup up to the brim,\nmoistened his lips in it and said to the stranger: \"May Armel's journey\nbe a happy one; he has ever been good and just; may he traverse under\nthe guidance of Teutates the marvelous regions and countries that lie\nbeyond the grave which none of us has yet traveled over, and which all\nof us will yet see. May Armel meet again those whom we have loved, and\nlet him assure them that we love them still!\"\n\nThe cup went around; the women and young girls expressed their good\nwishes to Armel on his journey; the remains of the supper were removed;\nand all gathered at the hearth, impatient to hear the promised stories\ntold by the stranger.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE STORY OF ALBREGE.\n\n\n\"Is it a story that you want of me?\" asked the unknown guest turning to\nJoel, and seeing the eyes of all fixed upon himself.\n\n\"One story?\" cried Joel. \"Tell us twenty, a hundred! You must have seen\nso much! so many countries! so many peoples! One story only? Ah, by the\ngood Ormi, you shall not be let off with only one story, friend guest!\"\n\n\"Oh, no!\" cried the family in chorus and with set determination. \"Oh,\nno! We must have more than one!\"\n\n\"And yet,\" observed the stranger with a pensive and severe mien, \"there\nis more serious work in hand than to tell and listen to frivolous\nstories.\"\n\n\"I understand not what you mean,\" said Joel no less taken back than his\nfamily; all turned their eyes upon the stranger in silent amazement.\n\n\"No, you do not understand me,\" replied the stranger sadly.\n\"Nevertheless, I shall keep my promise--the thing promised is a thing\ndone;\" and pointing to Julyan who had remained at the other end of the\nhall near the oak-covered body of Armel he added: \"We must see to it\nthat that young man has something to tell his brother when he joins him\nbeyond.\"\n\n\"Proceed, guest, proceed with your story,\" answered Julyan, without\nraising his head from his hands; \"proceed with your story; I shall not\nlose a word.... Armel shall hear it just as you tell it.\"\n\n\"Two years ago,\" said the stranger, beginning his story, \"while\ntraveling among the Gauls who inhabit the borders of the Rhine, I\nhappened one day to be at Strasburg. I had gone out of the town for a\nwalk along the river bank. Presently I saw a large crowd of people\nmoving in the direction of where I stood. They were following a man and\nwoman, both young and both handsome, who carried on a buckler, that they\nheld by the edges, a little baby not more than three or four months old.\nThe man looked restless and somber; the woman pale and calm. Both\nstopped at the river's bank, at a spot where the stream runs especially\nrapid. The crowd also stopped. I drew near and inquired who the man and\nwoman were. 'The man's name is Vindorix, the woman's Albrege; they are\nman and wife,' was the answer I received. I then saw Vindorix, whose\ncountenance waxed more and more somber, approach his wife and say to\nher:\n\n\"'This is the time.'\n\n\"'Do you wish it?' asked Albrege. 'Do you wish it?'\n\n\"'Yes,' answered the husband; 'I doubt--I want to be certain.'\n\n\"'Then, be it so,' said she.\n\n\"Thereupon, himself taking the buckler where the little child lay,\nsmiling and stretching out its chubby arms to him, Vindorix walked into\nthe river up to his waist, raised the buckler and child for a moment\nover his head, and looked back a last time towards his wife, as if to\nthreaten her with what he was about to do. With her forehead high and a\nsteady countenance, Albrege remained erect at the river bank, motionless\nlike a statue, her arms crossed upon her bosom. When her husband now\nturned to her she stretched out her right hand towards him as if to say:\n\n\"'Do it!'\n\n\"At that moment a shudder ran over the crowd. Vindorix deposited upon\nthe stream the buckler on which lay the child, and in that frail craft\nleft the infant to the mercy of the eddies.\"\n\n\"Oh, the wicked man!\" cried Mamm' Margarid deeply moved by the story as\nwere the other hearers. \"And his wife!... his wife ... who remained on\nthe bank?--\"\n\n\"But what was the reason of such a barbarity, friend guest?\" asked\nHenory, the young wife of Guilhern embracing her two children, little\nSylvest and little Syomara, both of whom she took on her knees as if\nfearing to see them exposed to a similar danger.\n\nWith a gesture the stranger put an end to the interrogatories, and\nproceeded:\n\n\"The stream had barely carried away the buckler on which the child lay,\nthan the father raised both his trembling hands to heaven as if to\ninvoke the gods. He followed the course of the buckler with sullen\nanxiety, leaning, despite himself, to the right when the buckler dipped\nto the right, and to the left when the buckler dipped on that side. The\nmother, on the contrary, her arms crossed over her bosom, followed the\nbuckler with firm eyes, and as tranquil as if she had nothing to fear\nfor her child.\"\n\n\"Nothing to fear!\" cried Guilhern. \"To see her child thus exposed to\nalmost certain death ... it is bound to go under....\"\n\n\"That must have been an unnatural mother,\" cried Henory.\n\n\"And not one man in all that crowd to jump into the water and save the\nchild!\" observed Julyan thinking of his friend. \"Oh, that will surely\nanger the heart of Armel, when I tell him that.\"\n\n\"But do not interrupt every instant!\" cried Joel. \"Proceed, my guest;\nmay Teutates, who presides over all journeys made in this world and in\nthe others, guard the poor little thing!\"\n\n\"Twice,\" the stranger proceeded, \"the buckler threatened to be swallowed\nup by the eddies of the rapid stream. Of all present, only the mother\nmoved not a muscle. Presently the buckler was seen riding the waters\nlike an airy skiff and peacefully following the course of the stream\nbeyond the rapids. Immediately the crowd cried, beating their hands:\n\n\"'The boat! The boat!'\n\n\"Two men ran down the bank, pushed off a boat, and swiftly plying their\noars, quickly reached the buckler, and took it up from the water\ntogether with the child that had fallen asleep--\"\n\n\"Thanks to the gods! The child is saved!\" exclaimed almost in chorus the\nfamily of Joel, as if delivered from a painful apprehension.\n\nPerceiving that he was about to be again interrupted by fresh questions,\nthe stranger hastened to resume his narrative.\n\n\"While the buckler and child were being taken from the water, its father\nVindorix, whose face was now as radiant with joy as it was somber until\nthen, ran to his wife, and stretching out his arms to her said:\"\n\n\"'Albrege!... Albrege!... You told me the truth.... You were faithful!'\"\n\n\"But repelling her husband with an imperious gesture, Albrege answered\nhim proudly: 'Certain of my honor, I did not fear the trial.... I felt\nat ease on my child's fate. The gods could not punish an innocent woman\nwith the loss of her child.... But ... _a woman suspected is a woman\noutraged_.... I shall keep my child. You never more shall see us, nor\nhim, nor me.... You have doubted your wife's honor!'\"\n\n\"The child was just then brought in triumph. Its mother threw herself\nupon it, like a lioness upon her whelp; pressed it closely to her heart;\nso calm and peaceful as she had been until then, so violent was she now\nwith the caresses that she showered upon the baby, with whom she now\nfled away.\"\n\n\"O, that was a true daughter of Gaul!\" said Guilhern's wife. \"A woman\nsuspected is a woman outraged. Those are proud words.... I like to hear\nthem!\"\n\n\"But,\" asked Joel, \"is that trial one of the customs of the Gauls along\nthe Rhine?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the stranger; \"the husband who suspects his wife of\nhaving dishonored his bed, places the baby upon a buckler and exposes it\nto the current of the river. If the child remains afloat, the wife's\ninnocence is proved; if it sinks under the waves, the mother's crime is\nconsidered established.\"\n\n\"And how was that brave wife clad, friend guest?\" asked Henory. \"Did she\nwear a tunic like ours?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the stranger; \"the tunics in that region are very short\nand of two colors. The corsage is generally blue, the skirt red. The\nlatter is often embroidered with gold and silver thread.\"\n\n\"And their head-gear?\" asked one of the young girls. \"Are they white and\ncut square like our own?\"\n\n\"No; they are black and bell-shaped, and they are also embroidered in\ngold and silver.\"\n\n\"And the bucklers?\" queried Guilhern. \"Are they like ours?\"\n\n\"They are longer, and they are painted with lively colors, usually\narranged in squares. Red and white is a very common combination.\"\n\n\"And the marriages, how are they celebrated?\" inquired another young\ngirl.\n\n\"And the cattle, are they as fine as ours?\" an old man wanted to know.\n\n\"And have they like us brave fighting cocks?\" asked a child.\n\nThe stranger was being assailed with such a shower of questions that\nJoel said to the questioners:\n\n\"Enough; enough.... Let our friend regain his breath. You are screaming\naround him like a flock of sea-gulls.\"\n\n\"Do they pay, as we do, the money they owe the dead?\" asked Stumpy,\ndespite Joel's orders to cease questioning the stranger.\n\n\"Yes; their custom and ours is the same as here,\" answered the stranger;\n\"and they are not idolaters like a man from Asia whom I met at\nMarseilles, and who claimed that, according to his religion, we\ncontinued to live after death, but not clad in human shape, according to\nhim we were clad in the form of animals.\"\n\n\"_Her!_ ... _Her!_\" cried Stumpy in great trouble. \"If it were as those\nidolatrous people claim, then Gigel, who departed instead of old Mark,\nmay be now inhabiting the body of a fish; and I would have sent him\nthree pieces of silver with Armel who might now be inhabiting the body\nof a bird. How could a bird deliver silver pieces to a fish. _Her!_ ...\n_Her!_\"\n\n\"Our friend told you that that belief is idolatry, Stumpy,\" put in Joel\nwith severity; \"your fear is impious.\"\n\n\"It must be so,\" said Julyan sadly. \"What would I become who am to\nproceed to-morrow to meet Armel by oath and out of friendship, were I to\nfind him turned into a bird while I may be turned into a stag of the\nwoods or an ox of the fields?\"\n\n\"Fear not, young man,\" said the stranger to Julyan, \"the religion of\nHesus is the only true religion; it teaches us that after death we are\nreclad in younger and handsomer bodies.\"\n\n\"I pin my hopes on that!\" said Stumpy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE STORY OF SYOMARA.\n\n\nThe storm of questions had spent itself and the thirst for fresh stories\nreturned among the assembled family of Joel, whose head remarked with\nwonderment: \"What a thing traveling is? How much one learns; but we must\nnot lag behind our guest. Story for story. Proud Gallic woman for proud\nGallic woman. Friend guest, ask Mamm' Margarid to tell you the beautiful\nstory and deed of one of her own female ancestors, which happened about\na hundred and thirty years ago when our fathers went as far as Asia to\nfound a new Gaul, because you must know that few are the countries on\nearth that their soles have not trod upon.\"\n\n\"After your wife's story,\" answered the stranger, \"and seeing that you\nwish to speak of our own ancestors, I shall also speak of them ... and\nby Ritha Gaur!... never would the time be fitter. While we are here\ntelling stories, you do not seem to know what is going on elsewhere in\nthe land; you do not know that perhaps at this very moment--\"\n\n\"Why do you interrupt yourself?\" asked Joel wondering at the suddenness\nwith which his guest broke off in the middle of the sentence. \"What is\ngoing on while we are here telling stories? What better can we do at the\ncorner of our hearth during an autumn evening?\"\n\nInstead of answering Joel, the stranger respectfully said to Mamm'\nMargarid:\n\n\"I shall listen to the story of Joel's wife.\"\n\n\"It is a very short and simple story,\" answered Margarid plying her\ndistaff. \"The story is as simple as the action of my ancestral\ngrandmother. Her name was Syomara.\"\n\n\"And in honor of her,\" said Guilhern breaking in upon his mother and\nproudly pointing the stranger to an eight year old child of surprising\nbeauty, \"in honor of our ancestral grandmother Syomara, who was as\nbeautiful as she was brave, I have given her name to this little girl of\nmine.\"\n\n\"This is indeed a most charming child,\" remarked the stranger struck by\nthe lovely face of little Syomara. \"I am sure she will have her\ngrandmother's valor in the same degree that she is endowed with her\nbeauty.\"\n\nHenory, the child's mother blushed with joy at these words and said\nsmiling to Mamm' Margarid:\n\n\"I dare not blame Guilhern for having interrupted you; it brought on the\npretty compliment.\"\n\n\"The compliment is as sweet to me as to you, my daughter,\" answered\nMamm' Margarid; saying which she began her story:\n\n\"My grandmother's name was Syomara; she was the daughter of Ronan. Her\nfather had taken her into lower Languedoc whither his traffic called\nhim. The Gauls of the neighborhood were just preparing for the\nexpedition to the East. Their chief, Oriegon by name, saw my\ngrandmother, was fascinated by her beauty, won her love and married her.\nSyomara departed with her husband on the expedition to the East. At\nfirst they triumphed. Afterwards, the Romans, who were ever jealous of\nthe Gallic possessions, attacked our fathers. In one of the battles,\nSyomara, who, led thereto both by duty and love, accompanied Oriegon,\nher husband, to battle in a war-chariot, was separated from her husband\nduring the fray, taken prisoner, and placed under the guard of a Roman\nofficer, who was a miser and a libertine. The Roman, who was captivated\nby the beauty of Syomara, attempted to seduce her; but she repelled his\nadvances with contempt. He then surprised his captive during her sleep\nand outraged her--\"\n\n\"Listen, Joel!\" cried the stranger indignantly. \"Listen to that!... A\nRoman subjects an ancestor of your wife to such indignity!\"\n\n\"Listen to the end of the story, friend guest,\" said Joel; \"you will see\nthat Syomara is the peer of the Gallic woman of the Rhine.\"\n\n\"The one and the other,\" Margarid proceeded, \"showed themselves true to\nthe maxim that there are three kinds of chastity among the women of\nGaul: The first, when a father says in the presence of his daughter that\nhe grants her hand to him whom she loves; the second, when for the first\ntime she enters her husband's bed; and the third, when she appears the\nnext morning before other men. The Roman had outraged Syomara, his\nprisoner. His passion being satisfied, he offered her freedom upon\npayment of a ransom. She accepted the offer and induced the Roman to\nsend her servant, a prisoner like herself, to the camp of the Gauls and\ntell Oriegon or, in his absence, any of his friends, to bring the ransom\nto an appointed place. The servant departed to the camp of the Gauls.\nThe miserly Roman, wishing himself to receive the ransom and not share\nit with anyone else, led Syomara alone to the appointed place. The\nfriends of Oriegon were there with the gold for the ransom. While the\nRoman was counting the gold, Syomara addressed the Gauls in their own\ntongue and ordered them to kill the infamous man. Her orders were\nexecuted on the spot. Syomara then cut off his head, placed it in a fold\nof her dress and returned to the camp of her people. Oriegon, who had\nhimself been also taken prisoner and managed to escape, arrived in camp\nat the same time as his wife. At the sight of her husband, Syomara\ndropped the head of the Roman at his feet and addressed Oriegon saying:\n'That is the head of a man who outraged me.... There is none but you who\ncan say that he possessed me.'\"\n\nAt the close of her narrative, Mamm' Margarid continued to spin in\nsilence.\n\n\"Did I not tell you, friend,\" said Joel, \"that Syomara, Margarid's\ngrandmother, was the peer of your Gallic woman of the Rhine?\"\n\n\"And must not the noble name bring good luck to my daughter!\" added\nGuilhern tenderly kissing the blonde head of the child.\n\n\"That powerful and chaste story is worthy of the lips that told it,\"\nsaid the stranger. \"It also proves that the Romans, our implacable\nenemies, have not changed. Avaricious and debauched were they once--and\nare to-day. And seeing that we are speaking of the avaricious and\ndebauched Romans and that you love stories,\" he added with a bitter\nsmile, \"you must know that I have been in Rome ... and that I saw ...\nJulius Caesar ... the most famous of the Roman generals, as also the most\navaricious and the most debauched man of all Italy. I would not venture\nto speak of his infamous acts of libertinage before women and young\ngirls.\"\n\n\"Oh! Did you see that famous Julius Caesar? What kind of a looking man is\nhe?\" asked Joel with great inquisitiveness.\n\nThe stranger looked at the brenn as if greatly surprised at the\nquestion, and answered with an effort to suppress his anger:\n\n\"Caesar is nearing old age; he is tall of stature; his face is lean and\nlong; his complexion pale; his eyes black; his head bald. Seeing the man\ncombines in his person all the vices of the worst women of the Romans,\nhe is possessed, like them, of extraordinary personal vanity.\nAccordingly, in order to conceal his baldness, he ever carries a chaplet\nof gold leaves on his head. Is your inquisitiveness satisfied, Joel?\nWould you want more details about Caesar's infirmities? That he is\nsubject to epileptic fits?... That--\"\n\nBut the stranger did not finish his sentence. Letting his eyes wander\nover the assembled family of the brenn, he cried with towering rage:\n\n\"By the anger of Hesus! Can it be that all of you--as many as you are\nhere capable of seizing the sabre and the sword but insatiable after\nidle stories--can it be you do not know that a Roman army, after having\ninvaded under the command of Caesar one-half of our provinces, has taken\nwinter quarters in the country of Orleans, of Touraine and of Anjou?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes; we have heard about it,\" calmly said Joel. \"People from\nAnjou, who came here to buy beef and pork, told us about it.\"\n\n\"And it is with such unconcern that you speak of the Roman invasion of\nGaul?\" cried the traveler.\n\n\"Never have the Breton Gauls been invaded by strangers,\" proudly\nanswered the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. \"We shall remain spotless of\nthe taint. We are independent of the Gauls of Piotou, of Touraine, of\nOrleans and of the other sections of the land, just as they are\nindependent of us. They have not asked for our help. We are not so\nconstituted as to offer ourselves to their chiefs and to fight under\nthem. Let everyone guard his own honor and his own province. The Romans\nare in Touraine ... but it is a long way from Touraine to here.\"\n\n\"So that if the pirates of the North were to kill your son Albinik the\nsailor and his brave wife Meroe, it would no wise concern you because\nthe murder was committed far from here?\"\n\n\"You are joking. My son is my son.... The Gauls of provinces other than\nmine are not my sons!\"\n\n\"Are they not, like yourself, the sons of the same god, as the druid\nreligion teaches you? If that is so, are not all the Gauls your\nbrothers? And does not the subjugation, does not the blood of a brother\ncry for vengeance? Are you unconcerned because the enemy is not at the\nvery gates of your own homestead? On that principle, the hand, even when\nit knows that the foot is gangrened, could say to itself: 'As to me, I\nam well, and the foot is far from the hand--I need not worry over the\ndisease.' And the gangrene, not being stopped, rises from the foot to\nthe other members, until the whole body perishes.\"\n\n\"Unless the healthy hand take an axe,\" said the brenn, \"and cut off the\nfoot from which the evil proceeds.\"\n\n\"And what becomes of the body that is thus mutilated, Joel?\" put in\nMamm' Margarid who all the while had been listening in silence. \"When\nthe best regions of the country shall have been invaded by the stranger,\nwhat will then become of the rest of Gaul? Thus mutilated and\ndismembered, how will she defend herself against her enemies?\"\n\n\"The worthy spouse of my host speaks wisely,\" said the traveler\nrespectfully to Mamm' Margarid; \"like all Gallic matrons she holds her\nplace at the public council as well as at her hearth.\"\n\n\"You speak truly,\" rejoined Joel, \"Margarid has a brave heart and a wise\nhead. Often her opinion is better than mine.... I gladly say so.... But\nthis time I am right. Whatever may happen to the rest of Gaul, never\nwill the Romans set foot in our old Britanny. There are her rocks, her\nmarshes, her woods, her sand banks--above all her Bretons to defend\nher.\"\n\nAt these words of her husband Mamm' Margarid shook her head\ndisapprovingly; all the men of the family, however, loudly applauded\ntheir brenn's words.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE STORY OF GAUL.\n\n\nWhen the noisy and martial ardor, evoked by the boastful words of the\nbrenn of the tribe of Karnak had subsided, the traveler was seen sitting\nin somber silence. He looked up and said:\n\n\"Very well, one more and last story, but let this one fall upon the\nhearts of you all like burning brass, seeing that the wise words of this\nhousehold's matron have proved futile.\"\n\nAll looked with surprise at the stranger, who with somber and severe\nmien began his story with these words:\n\n\"Once upon a time, as far back as two or three thousand years, there\nlived a family here in Gaul. Whence did it come, to fill the vast\nsolitudes that to-day are so populous? It doubtlessly came from the\nheart of Asia, that ancient cradle of the human races, now, however,\nhidden in the night of antiquity. That family ever preserved a type\npeculiar to itself, and found with no other people of the world. Loyal,\nhospitable, generous, vivacious, gay, inclined to humor, loving to tell,\nabove all, to hear stories, intrepid in battle, daring death more\nheroically than any other nation, because its religion taught it what\ndeath was--such were that family's virtues. Giddy-headed, vagabond,\npresumptuous, inconsistent, curious after novelty, and greedier yet of\nseeing than of conquering unknown countries, as easily uniting as\nfalling apart, too proud and too fickle to adjust its opinions to those\nof its neighbors, or if consenting thereto, incapable of long marching\nin concert with them, although common and vital interests be at\nstake--such are that family's vices. In point of its virtues and in\npoint of its vices, thus has it always been since the remotest\ncenturies; thus is it to-day; thus will it be to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Oh, oh! If I am not much mistaken,\" broke in the brenn smiling, \"all of\nus, Gauls though we may be, must have some cousin red with that family.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the stranger, \"to its own misfortune--and to the joy of its\nenemies--such has been and such is to-day the character of our own\npeople!\"\n\n\"But at least admit, despite such a character, the dear Gallic people\nhas made its way well through the world. Few are the countries where the\ninquisitive vagabond, as you call it, did not promenade his shoes, with\nhis nose in the air, his sword at his side--\"\n\n\"You are right. Such is its spirit of adventure: always marching ahead\ntowards the unknown, rather than to stop and build. Thus, to-day,\none-third of Gaul is in the hands of the Romans, while some centuries\nago the Gallic race occupied through its headlong conquests, besides\nGaul, England, Ireland, upper Italy, the banks of the Danube, and the\ncountries along the sea border as far east and north as Denmark. Nor yet\nwas that enough. It looked as if our race was to spread itself over the\nwhole world. The Gauls of the Danube went into Macedonia, into Thrace,\ninto Thessaly. Others of them crossed the Bosphorus and the Hellespont,\nreached Asia Minor, founded New Gaul, and thus became the arbiters of\nall the kingdoms of the East.\"\n\n\"So far, meseems,\" rejoined the brenn, \"we have nothing to regret over\nour character that you so severely judge.\"\n\n\"And what is left of those senseless battles, undertaken by the pride of\nthe kings who then reigned over the Gauls?\" the stranger proceeded\nlooking around. \"Have not the distant conquests slipped from us? Have\nnot our implacable and ever more powerful enemies, the Romans, raised\nall the peoples against us? Have we not been compelled to abandon those\nuseless possessions--Asia, Greece, Germany, Italy? That is the net\nresult of so much heroism and so much blood! That is the pass to which\nwe have been brought by the ambition of the kings, who usurped the power\nof the druids!\"\n\n\"To that I have nothing to say. You are right. There was no need of\npromenading so far away only to soil the soles of our shoes with the\nblood and the dust of foreign lands. But if I am not mistaken, it was at\nabout that time that the sons of the brave Ritha Gaur, who had a blouse\nmade for himself of the beards of the kings whom he shaved, seeing in\nthese the butchers of the people and not its shepherds, overthrew the\nroyalty.\"\n\n\"Yes, thanks to the gods, an epoch of real grandeur, of peace and of\nprosperity succeeded the barren and bloody conquests of the kings.\nDisembarassed of its useless possessions, reduced to rational\nlimits--its natural frontiers--the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees and the\nOcean--the republic of the Gauls became the queen and envy of the world.\nIts fertile soil, cultivated as we so well know how, produced everything\nin abundance; the rivers were covered with merchant vessels; gold,\nsilver and copper mines increased its wealth every day; large cities\nrose everywhere. The druids, spreading light in all directions, preached\nunion to the provinces, and set the example by convoking once a year in\nthe center of Gaul solemn assemblies, at which the general interests of\nthe country were considered. Each tribe, each canton, each town, elected\nits own magistrates; each province was a republic which, according to\nthe druid plan, merged into the great Republic of the Gauls, and thus\nconstituted one powerful body through the union of all.\"\n\n\"The fathers of our grandfathers saw those happy days, friend guest.\"\n\n\"And their sons saw only ruins and misfortune! What has happened? The\naccursed stock of dethroned kings joins the stock of their former and no\nless accursed clients or seigneurs, and all of them, irritated at having\nbeen deposed of their authority, hope for restoration from the public\nmisfortunes, and exploit with infamous perfidy our innate pride and lack\nof discipline, which, under the powerful influence of the druids, were\nbeing steadily corrected. The rivalries between province and province,\nlong allayed, re-awakened; jealousies and hatreds sprang up anew;\neverywhere the structure of union began to crumble. For all this the\nkings do not re-ascend the throne. Many of their descendants are even\njudicially executed. But they have unchained internal feud. Civil war\nflares up. The more powerful provinces seek to subjugate the weaker.\nThus, towards the end of the last century, the Marseillians, the\ndescendants of the exiled Greeks to whom Gaul generously assigned the\nterritory on which they built their town, sought to assume the role of\nsovereignty. The province rose against the town; finding herself in\ndanger, Marseilles called the Romans to her aid. They came, not to\nsustain Marseilles in her contemplated iniquity, but to themselves take\npossession of the region, a purpose that they succeeded in, despite the\nprodigies of valor with which they were opposed. Established in\nProvence, the Romans built the town of Aix, and thus founded their first\ncolony on our soil--\"\n\n\"Oh, a curse upon the Marseillians!\" cried Joel. \"It was thanks to those\nsons of Greeks that the Romans gained a foothold in Gaul!\"\n\n\"By what right can we curse the people of Marseilles? Must not also\nthose provinces be cursed which, since the decline of the republic, thus\nallowed one of their sisters to be overpowered and subjugated? But\nretribution was swift. Encouraged by the indifference of the Gauls, the\nRomans took possession of Auvergne, and later of the Dauphine, and a\nlittle later also of Languedoc and Vivarais despite the heroic defence\nof their peoples, who, besides being divided among themselves, were left\nto their own resources. Thus the Romans became masters of almost all\nsouthern Gaul; they govern it by their proconsuls and reduce its people\nto slavery. Do the other provinces at last take alarm at these ominous\ninvasions of Rome that push ever forward and threaten the very heart of\nGaul? No! No! Relying upon their own courage, they say as you, Joel, did\nshortly ago: 'The South lies far away from the North, the East lies far\naway from the West.' This notwithstanding, our race, which is heedless\nand presumptuous enough to fail to prepare in advance, and when it is\nstill time, against foreign domination, always has the belated courage\nof rebelling when the yoke is actually placed upon its neck. The\nprovinces that have been subjugated by the Romans, break out in resolute\nrebellion; these are smothered in their own blood. Our disasters follow\nswiftly upon one another. The Burgundians, incited thereto by the\ndescendants of the old kings, take up arms against the Frank-Compte and\ninvoke the aid of the Romans. The Frank-Compte, unable to make head\nagainst such an alliance, requests reinforcements from the Germans of\nthe other side of the Rhine. Thus these barbarians of the North are\ntaught the road to Gaul, and after bloody battles with the very people\nwho invited them, remain masters of both Burgundy and Frank-Compte. Last\nyear, the Swiss, encouraged by the example of the Germans, make an\nirruption into the Gallic provinces that had been conquered by the\nRomans. Thereupon, Julius Caesar is appointed proconsul; he hastens from\nItaly; owerthrows the Swiss in their mountains; drives the Germans out\nof Burgundy and Frank-Compte; takes possession of these provinces, now\nexhausted by their long struggles with the barbarians; and to the yoke\nof these now succeeds that of the Romans. It was a change of masters.\nAnd finally, at the beginning of this year a portion of Gaul shakes off\nits lethargy and scents the dangers that threatens the still independent\nprovinces. Brave patriots, wanting neither Romans nor Germans for their\nmasters--Galba among the Gauls of Belgium, Boddig-nat among the Gauls of\nFlanders--induce the people to rise in mass against Caesar. The Gauls of\nVermandois and those of Artois also rise in rebellion. Together they all\nmarch against the Romans! Oh, it was a great and terrible battle, that\nbattle of the Sambre!\" cried the unknown traveler with exaltation. \"The\nGallic army awaited Caesar on the left bank of the river. Three times did\nthe Roman army cross, and three times was it compelled to recross it,\nfighting up to their waists in the blood-reddened waters. The Roman is\noverthrown, the oldest legions are shattered. Caesar alights from his\nhorse, swings his sword, rallies his last cohorts of veterans, that\nalready were yielding ground, and at their head charges upon our army.\nDespite Caesar's courage the battle was lost to him, when we saw a fresh\nbody arrive to his aid.\"\n\n\"You say 'We saw'?\" asked Joel. \"Were you at that terrible battle?\"\n\nBut the unknown visitor proceeded without answering: \"Exhausted,\ndecimated by a seven hours' fight, we still held out against the fresh\ntroops ... we fought to the bitter end ... we fought unto death.... And\ndo you know,\" added the stranger with an expression of profound grief,\n\"do you know, you who remained peacefully at home, while your brothers\nwere dying for the liberty of Gaul, which is also yours,--do you know\nhow many survived of the sixty thousand men in the Gallic army--in that\nbattle of the Sambre?... _Not five hundred!_\"\n\n\"Not five hundred!\" cried Joel as if questioning the figures.\n\n\"I say so because I am one of the survivors,\" answered the stranger\nproudly.\n\n\"Then the two fresh scars on your face--\"\n\n\"I received them at the battle of the Sambre--\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n\"WAR! WAR! WAR!\"\n\n\nA furious barking of dogs in the yard and a distinct noise of hard\nrapping at the gate of the palisade interrupted the stranger's\nnarrative. Still laboring under the painful impression of the traveler's\nwords, the family of the brenn for a moment imagined their homestead was\nbeing attacked. The women rose precipitately, the little ones rushed to\ntheir mothers' arms, the men ran for their arms that hung from the\nwalls. But the dogs soon ceased barking, although the rapping at the\ngate continued unabated. Joel said to his family:\n\n\"Although they are still rapping, the dogs do not bark. They must know\nwho is at the gate.\"\n\nSaying this, the brenn stepped out. Several of his kinsmen, the stranger\nincluded, followed him out of prudence. The yard gate was opened and two\nvoices were heard outside the palisades crying:\n\n\"It is we, friends, ... Albinik and Mikael.\"\n\nIndeed the two sons of the brenn were distinguished by the light of the\ntorches, and behind them their horses, panting for breath and white with\nfoam. After tenderly embracing his sons, especially the mariner, who was\nabsent over a year on his sea journeys, Joel entered the house with\nthem, where they were received with joy and not a little surprise by\ntheir mother and other relatives.\n\nAlbinik the mariner and Mikael the armorer were, like their father and\ntheir brother, men of large and robust stature. Over their clothes they\ncarried a caped cloak of heavy woolen fabric streaming with the rain.\nUpon entering the house, and even before embracing their mother, the new\narrivals stepped to the altar and approached their lips to the seven\nsmall twigs of mistletoe that stood dipped in the copper bowl on the\nlarge stone. They there noticed a lifeless body covered with oak\nbranches, near which Julyan still sat.\n\n\"Good evening, Julyan,\" said Mikael. \"Who is dead?\"\n\n\"It is Armel; I killed him this evening in a sword contest,\" answered\nJulyan; \"but as we have both pledged brotherhood to each other, I shall\njoin him to-morrow beyond. If you wish it I shall mention you to him.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes. Julyan; I loved Armel and expected to find him alive. In the\nbag on my horse I have a little harpoon head of iron that I forged for\nhim; I shall place it to-morrow on the pyre of you two--\"\n\n\"And you must tell Armel,\" added the mariner smiling, \"that he went away\ntoo soon; his friends Albinik and Meroe would have told him their last\nexperience at sea.\"\n\n\"It is Armel and myself,\" replied Julyan with a smile, \"who will later\nhave pretty stories to tell you. Your sea trips will be like nothing to\nthe travels that await us in those marvelous worlds that none has seen\nand all will see.\"\n\nAfter Margarid's two sons had answered the tender inquiries of their\nmother and family, the brenn said to the unknown traveler:\n\n\"Friend, these are my two sons.\"\n\n\"May it please heaven that the suddenness of their arrival may not be\ncaused by some evil event,\" answered the traveler.\n\n\"I say so, too, my children,\" rejoined Joel. \"What has happened that you\ncome at so late an hour and in such hurry? Happy be your return,\nAlbinik, but I did not expect it so soon. But where is the gentle\nMeroe?\"\n\n\"I left her at Vannes, father. This is what has happened. I returned\nfrom Spain by the gulf of Gascony on the way to England. The bad weather\nforced us to put in at Vannes. But by Teutates, who presides over all\njourneys by land and sea, here on earth and beyond, I did not\nexpect--no, I did not expect to see what I saw in that town. I,\ntherefore, left my vessel in port in charge of my sailors with my wife\nas their chief, I took a horse and galloped to Auray. There I gave the\nnews to Mikael, and we hastened hither to forewarn you, father.\"\n\n\"And what is it you saw at Vannes?\"\n\n\"What did I see? All the inhabitants, in revolt, full of indignation and\nrage, like the brave Bretons that they are!\"\n\n\"And what is the reason of it all, children?\" asked Mamm' Margarid\nwithout leaving her distaff.\n\n\"Four Roman officers, without any other escort than four soldiers and as\ncalmly insolent as if they were in some enslaved country, came in\nyesterday and commanded the magistrates of the town to issue orders to\nall the neighboring tribes to send to Vannes ten thousand bags of\nwheat--\"\n\n\"And what else?\" asked Joel laughing and shrugging his shoulders.\n\n\"Five thousand bags of oats.\"\n\n\"And what else?\"\n\n\"Five hundred barrels of hydromel.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" said the brenn laughing louder, \"they must also drink--and\nwhat else?\"\n\n\"A thousand heads of beef.\"\n\n\"And, of course, the fattest--What else?\"\n\n\"Five thousand sheep.\"\n\n\"That's right. One soon gets tired of beef only. Is that all, my boy?\"\n\n\"They also demanded three hundred horses to furnish new equipages to the\nRoman cavalry, besides two hundred wagons of forage.\"\n\n\"And why not? The poor horses must be fed,\" continued Joel sneeringly.\n\"But there must be some more orders. If they begin to issue orders, why\nstop at all?\"\n\n\"The provisions were to be taken in wagons as far as Poitou and\nTouraine.\"\n\n\"And what is the wide maw that is to swallow up those bags of wheat,\nthose muttons, those heads of beef and those barrels of hydromel?\"\n\n\"Above all,\" added the traveler, \"who is to pay for all those\nprovisions?\"\n\n\"Pay for them!\" replied Albinik. \"Why, nobody. It is a forced impost.\"\n\n\"Ha! Ha!\" laughed Joel.\n\n\"And the wide maw that is to gulp up the provisions is none other than\nthe Roman army, which is wintering in Touraine and Anjou.\"\n\nA shudder of rage mixed with disdain ran through the family of the\nbrenn. \"Well, Joel,\" the unknown traveler remarked, \"do you still think\nthat it is a long way from Touraine to Britanny? The distance does not\nseem to me long, seeing that the officers of Caesar come calmly and\nwithout escort, empty-pursed and swinging high their canes, to provision\ntheir army here.\"\n\nJoel no longer laughed; he dropped his head and remained silent.\n\n\"Our guest is right,\" put in Albinik; \"these Romans came empty-pursed\nand swinging high their canes. One of them even raised his cane over old\nRonan, the oldest magistrate of Vannes, who, like you, father, objected\nstrongly to the Roman exaction.\"\n\n\"And yet, children, what else can we do but laugh at these demands. To\nlevy these provisionings upon us and the neighboring tribes of Vannes;\nto force us to carry the requisitions to Touraine and Anjou with our\noxen and horses which the Romans will surely keep also, and all that at\nthe very season of the late sowing and of our autumn labors; to ruin\nnext year's harvest;--why, that is to reduce us to living upon the grass\nthat would have fed the cattle that they rob us of!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mikael the armorer; \"they want to take away our wheat and\nour cattle, and leave the grass to us. By the iron of the lance that I\nwas forging this very morning, it shall be the Romans who, under our\nblows, will bite the grass on our fields!\"\n\n\"Vannes is now preparing to defend herself if attacked,\" added the\nmariner. \"They have begun to throw up trenches in the neighborhood of\nthe port. All our sailors are to be armed, and if the Roman galleys\nattack us by sea, never will the sea crows have had a like feast of\ncorpses upon our beach.\"\n\n\"While crossing to-night the other tribes,\" resumed Mikael, \"we spread\nthe news and sounded the alarm. The magistrates of Vannes have also sent\nout messengers in all direction ordering that fires be lighted from hill\nto hill, and thereby give immediate notice of the imminent danger from\none end of Britanny to the other.\"\n\nWithout once dropping her distaff, Mamm' Margarid had listened to the\nreport given by her sons. When they stopped speaking she calmly said:\n\n\"As to those Roman officers, my sons, were they not sent back to their\narmy--after a thorough caning?\"\n\n\"No, mother; they were lodged in jail at Vannes, all except two of their\nsoldiers whom the magistrates charged to declare to the Roman general\nthat no provisions whatever were to be furnished him, and that his\nofficers were to be as hostages.\"\n\n\"It would have been better to give the officers a thorough caning and\ndrive them in disgrace out of the town,\" replied Mamm' Margarid. \"That\nis the way thieves are treated, and these Romans tried to rob us.\"\n\n\"You are right, Margarid,\" said Joel; \"they came to rob us--to starve\nus! to carry away our harvests and our cattle!\" And Joel, now in a\ntowering rage, added: \"By the vengeance of Hesus! To think of their\ntaking our fine turn-out of six young oxen with skins slick as wolves!\nOur four yokes of black bulls that have such a beautiful white star in\nthe center of their foreheads!\"\n\n\"And our beautiful white heifers with yellow heads!\" said Mamm' Margarid\nshrugging her shoulders and never quitting her distaff, \"our sheep whose\nfleece is so nice and thick.... Come, a good caning for these Romans!\"\n\n\"And the powerful horses of the stock of your magnificent stallion\nTom-Bras,\" put in the traveler. \"They will, after all, have to draw your\nharvest to Touraine, and will then serve to replace the worn-out horses\nof the Roman cavalry.... True, to them, the labor will not be excessive\n... because you will now probably discover that it is not far from\nTouraine to Britanny.\"\n\n\"Well may you mock, friend,\" said Joel. \"You were right, and I confess\nmyself to have been wrong. Oh! If only the provinces of Gaul had from\nthe start confederated themselves against the first assault of the\nRomans! If united they had put forth but one-half the efforts that they\nput forth separately--we would not now be exposed to the insolent\ndemands and to the threats of these heathens! Well may you mock!\"\n\n\"No, Joel, I will mock no longer,\" gravely answered the traveler. \"The\ndanger is near; the hostile camp lies only a twelve day's march from\nhere; the refusal of the magistrates of Vannes and the imprisonment of\nthe Roman officers--all that means speedy war--a merciless war, as only\nthe Romans know how to wage! If we are vanquished it means to us death\non the battle field, or slavery far away! The slave merchants follow the\ntracks of the Roman army; they are greedy after prey. Whatever survives,\nwhether whole or wounded--men, young women, girls, children--all are\nsold at auction like cattle for the benefit of the vanquisher, and are\nforthwith consigned by the thousands to Italy or to Southern Gaul where\nthe Romans are settled! Arrived at their destination, the male slaves of\nrobust frame are often forced to fight ferocious animals in the circus\nfor the amusement of their masters; the young women and girls, even the\nchildren are subjected to monstrous debaucheries. Such is war with the\nRomans if vanquished!\" cried the stranger. \"Will you allow yourselves to\nbe vanquished? Will you submit to such disgrace? Will you deliver to\nthem your wives, your sisters, your daughters and children, ye Gauls of\nBritanny?\"\n\nHardly had the traveler uttered these words when the whole family of\nJoel--men, women, young girls, children--all down to the dwarfy Stumpy,\nrose to their feet and with their eyes shooting fire, their cheeks\ninflamed, cried tumultuously, waving their arms:\n\n\"War! War! War!\"\n\nJoel's large battle mastiff, fired by these cries, rose on his hind legs\nand laid his fore-paws on the breast of his master, who, while caressing\nhis enormous head said:\n\n\"Yes, old Deber-Trud, like our tribe you will hunt the Romans.... The\nquarry shall be for you.... Your jaws shall be red with blood!... Wow!\nWow, Deber-Trud! At the Romans! At the Romans!\"\n\nHearing the well-known war-cry, the mastiff responded with furious\nbarks, displaying fangs as redoubtable as a lion's. Hearing Deber-Trud,\nthe outside watch-dogs, as well as those locked up in the kennels,\nanswered him. Frightful was the war-cry raised by the pack.\n\n\"A good omen, friend Joel,\" observed the traveler. \"Your dogs bark death\nto the enemy.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes; death to the enemy!\" cried the brenn. \"Thanks be to the gods,\nin our Breton Gaul, on the day of peril, the watch-dog becomes a\nwar-dog! the draw-horse becomes a war-horse! the ox of the field a\nwar-ox! the harvest carts chariots of war! the laborer a warrior! even\nour peaceful and fruitful earth turns to war and devours the stranger!\nat every step he finds a grave in our fathomless marshes, and his\nvessels vanish in the whirlpools of our bays which are more terrible in\ntheir calm than in the tempest of their fury!\"\n\n\"Joel,\" now said Julyan, who had left the body of his friend, \"I\npromised Armel to meet him to-morrow yonder--Such a death would be\npleasant to me.... To die fighting the Romans is a duty.... What shall I\ndo?\"\n\n\"Ask to-morrow one of the druids of Karnak.\"\n\n\"And our sister Hena,\" said Albinik the mariner to his mother. \"It is\nnearly a year I have not seen her.... She is surely still the pearl of\nthe Isle of Sen? My wife Meroe charged me to remember her to Hena.\"\n\n\"You will see her to-morrow,\" answered Mamm' Margarid; and laying down\nher distaff she arose. It was the signal for the family to retire. Mamm'\nMargarid looked around and said:\n\n\"Let us retire, my children; it is late; to-morrow at break of day we\nmust begin our war preparations;\" and turning to the traveler:\n\n\"May the gods grant you a good rest and pleasant dreams!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nFAREWELL!\n\n\nAgreeable to his promise, Joel pushed off his boat early the next\nmorning, accompanied by his son Albinik the mariner, and took the\nunknown traveler to the island of Kellor, seeing he did not dare to land\nat the sacred precincts of the Isle of Sen. The brenn's guest said a few\nwords in a low voice to the ewagh who mounts perpetual guard in the\nisland's house. He seemed to be struck with respect and answered that\nTalyessin, the oldest of the living druids, who then was at the Isle of\nSen together with his wife Auria, expected a traveler since the previous\nevening.\n\nBefore leaving Joel, the stranger said to his host: \"I hope neither you\nnor your family will forget your resolution of yesterday. This day a\ncall to arms will resound from one end of Breton Gaul to the other.\"\n\n\"You may rest assured that I and the rest of my tribe will be the first\nto respond to the call.\"\n\n\"I believe you. The issue now is whether Gaul shall fall into slavery or\nshall rise again to the height of her one-time power and glory.\"\n\n\"But should I not, at this moment when I am to leave you, know the name\nof the brave man who sat at my hearth? The name of the wise man who\nspeaks with so much soundness and loves his country so warmly?\"\n\n\"Joel, my name shall be 'Soldier' so long as Gaul is not free; and if we\never meet again, I shall call myself 'Your Friend,' seeing that I am\nthat.\"\n\nSaying these words the unknown traveler stepped into the ewagh's boat\nthat was to take him from Kellor to the Isle of Sen. Before the boat,\nwhich was under charge of the ewagh, put off, Joel asked the latter\nwhether he would be permitted to wait at the house for his daughter\nHena, who was to come on that day to visit the family. The ewagh\ninformed him that his daughter would not start for the shore until\nevening. Sorry at not being able to take Hena with him, the brenn\nre-entered his boat and returned alone with Albinik.\n\nTowards noon, Julyan went to consult the druids of the forest of Karnak\nupon whether he should take the immediate and voluntary death which\nwould be a pleasure to him, seeing he was to rejoin Armel, or seek death\nin battle against the Romans. The druids answered him that having sworn\nto Armel upon his brotherhood faith to die with him, he should be\nfaithful to his promise, and that the ewaghs would bring the body of\nArmel with the usual ceremonies in order to place it upon the pyre where\nJulyan would find his place at moon-rise. Happy at being able so soon to\njoin his friend, Julyan was about to leave Karnak, when he saw the\nstranger, who had been the guest of Joel and who now returned from the\nIsle of Sen, approaching through the forest in the company of Talyessin.\nThe latter said a few words to the other druids, who forthwith\nsurrounded the traveler with great eagerness and marks of respect. The\nyounger ones of the druids received him as a brother, the elder ones as\na son.\n\nRecognizing Julyan, the traveler said to him:\n\n\"As you are to return to the brenn of the tribe, wait a little; I shall\ngive you a letter for him.\"\n\nJulyan yielded to the wish of the stranger, who withdrew accompanied by\nTalyessin and other druids. He returned shortly and handed to Julyan a\nlittle scroll of yellow tanned skin, saying:\n\n\"This is for Joel.... This evening, Julyan, when the moon rises we shall\nsee each other again.... Hesus loves those who, like you, are brave and\nfaithful in their friendship.\"\n\nUpon arriving at the brenn's house, Julyan learned that the former was\non the field gathering in the wheat. He went after him and delivered to\nJoel the writing sent by the stranger. It said:\n\n\"Friend Joel, in the name of Gaul now in danger, this is what the druids\nexpect of you: Command all the members of your family who are at work on\nthe fields to cry out to those of the tribe working not far from them:\nThe mistletoe and the new year! _Let every man, woman and child, all\nwithout exception, meet this evening in the forest of Karnak at the rise\nof the moon._ Let those of the tribe who will have heard these words in\nturn repeat them aloud to those of the other tribes who may also be at\nwork on the fields, so that the call being repeated from mouth to mouth,\nfrom one to another, from village to village, from town to town, from\nVannes to Auray, notify all the tribes to convene this evening at the\nforest of Karnak.\"\n\nJoel did as ordered by the stranger in the name of the druids of Karnak.\nThe call was carried from mouth to mouth, from the nearest to the most\ndistant tribes; all were notified to meet that evening in the forest of\nKarnak when the moon rose.\n\nWhile some of the brenn's family were hurriedly gathering in the wheat\nharvest that still remained heaped on the fields, in order to deposit a\nportion of it in cellars that the laborers were digging on dry ground,\nthe women, the girls and even the children, all working under the\ndirection of Margarid, were as busily engaged disposing of salted meats\ninto baskets, flour into bags, hydromel and wine into pouches; others\nwere filling coffers with lint and balsam for wounds; others were\nadjusting broad and strong tent cloths over the chariots. In all wars\nconsidered dangerous, the tribes threatened by the enemy, instead of\nwaiting for, usually went out to meet him. The houses were abandoned;\nthe field oxen were hitched to the war-chariots, all of which contained\nthe women, the children, the clothes and the provisions of the\ncombatants. The horses, ridden by the full grown men of the tribe,\nconstituted the cavalry. The young men, being more agile, went on foot\nas an armed escort. The grain was hidden away; the cattle, let loose,\npastured where they pleased and returned instinctively every evening to\ntheir usual stables. Generally, the wolves and bears devoured a part.\nThe fields remained untended and scarcity followed. Often the combatants\nwho went to war in defence of their country, encouraged by the presence\nof their wives and children, and having nothing to expect from the enemy\nbut disgrace, slavery or death, drove back the invader beyond their\nfrontiers, and returned home to repair the disasters of the fields.\n\nKnowing that his daughter was due at the house, Joel returned home\ntowards sun-down. He also expected to be able to take a hand in the\npreparations for the war.\n\nHena, the virgin of the Isle of Sen, soon arrived. When her father,\nmother and other relatives saw her enter it seemed to them never before\nhad she been so beautiful. Never before did her father feel so proud of\nhis daughter. The long black tunic that she wore was held around her\nwaist by a brass belt, from which, on one side, hung a little gold\nsickle, and on the other a crescent in the shape of the waning moon.\nHena had dressed herself with special care in honor of the celebration\nof her birthday. A necklace and gold bracelets inlaid with garnets\nornamented her arms and neck, whiter than the driven snow. When she took\noff her caped cloak it was noticed that she wore, as ever at religious\nceremonies, a crown of green oak leaves on her blonde hair, plaited in\nbraids over her chaste and mild forehead. The blue of the sea, when\nlying calmly under a clear sky, was not purer than the blue of Hena's\neyes.\n\nThe brenn stretched out his arms to his daughter. She ran into them\njoyously and offered him her forehead, as she also did her mother. The\nchildren of the family loved Hena dearly and contested with each other\nthe privilege of being the first to kiss her hands--sought with greed by\nall the little innocent mouths. Even old Deber-Trud gamboled and barked\nwith joy at the arrival of his young mistress.\n\nAlbinik the mariner was the first to whom Hena offered her forehead to\nkiss after her father and mother; she had not seen her brother for a\nlong time. Next came the turn of Guilhern and Mikael and then the swarm\nof children, whom, stooping to them, Hena, sought to hold all together\nin one embrace. The young priestess then tenderly greeted Henory, her\nbrother Guilhern's wife, and expressed her regret at not seeing\nAlbinik's wife Meroe. Nor were the other relatives forgotten; all, down\nto Stumpy, otherwise everyone's butt, had a kind word from her.\n\nThe general exchange of greetings being over, and happy at finding\nherself among her own, in the house where she was born eighteen years\nbefore, Hena sat down at her mother's feet on the same stool that she\nused to occupy when a child. When she saw her child seated at her feet,\nMamm' Margarid called the maid's attention to the disorder that reigned\nin the house due to the preparations for war, and she said sadly:\n\n\"We should have celebrated this day of your birth with joy and\ntranquility, dear child! Instead, you now find confusion and alarm in\nour house that soon will be deserted.... War threatens.\"\n\n\"Mother is right,\" answered Hena sighing; \"Great is the anger of Hesus.\"\n\n\"And what say you, dear child, you who are a saint,\" inquired Joel, \"a\nsaint of the Isle of Sen? What must we do to appease the wrath of the\nAll-Powerful?\"\n\n\"My father and mother honor me too much by calling me a saint,\" answered\nthe young virgin. \"Like the druids, myself and my female companions have\nmeditated all night under the shadows of the sacred oak-trees at the\nhour of moon rise. We search for the simplest and divinest principles,\nand seek to spread them among our fellow-beings. We adore the\nAll-Powerful in His works, from the mighty oak that is sacred to Him,\ndown to the humble moss that grows on the rocks of our isle; from the\nstars, whose eternal course we study, down to the insect that is born\nand dies in one day; from the sourceless sea, down to the streamlet of\nwater that glides under the grass. We search for the cure of diseases\nthat cause pain, and we glorify those among our fathers and mothers who\nhave shed lustre upon Gaul. By the knowledge of the auguries and the\nstudy of the past, we seek to foresee the future to the end of\nenlightening those who are less clear-sighted than ourselves. Finally,\nlike the druids, we teach childhood, we inspire the child with an ardent\nlove of our common and beloved fatherland--so threatened to-day by the\nwrath of Hesus, a wrath that comes down upon them because they have\nforgotten that _they are all the children of the same God_, and that a\nbrother must resent the wound inflicted upon his brother.\"\n\n\"The stranger who was our guest and whom this morning I took to the Isle\nof Sen,\" replied the brenn, \"spoke to us as you do, dear daughter.\"\n\n\"My father and mother may listen as sacred words to the words of the\nChief of the Hundred Valleys. Hesus and love for Gaul inspire him. He is\nbrave among the bravest.\"\n\n\"He! Is he the Chief of the Hundred Valleys?\" exclaimed Joel. \"He\nrefused to give me his name! Do you know it, daughter? Do you know which\nis his native province?\"\n\n\"He was impatiently waited for yesterday evening at the Isle of Sen by\nthe venerable Talyessin. As to his name, all that I am free to say to my\nfather and mother is that the day on which our country should be\nsubjugated will also be the day when the Chief of the Hundred Valleys\nwill see the last drop of his blood flow from his veins. May the wrath\nof Hesus spare us that disastrous day!\"\n\n\"Oh, my daughter, if Hesus is angry, how are we to appease him?\"\n\n\"By obeying the law. He has said--_all men are the children of one\nGod_. By offering to him human sacrifices.... May those that are to be\noffered to-night calm his wrath.\"\n\n\"The sacrifices of to-night?\" asked the brenn; \"which are they?\"\n\n\"Do not my father and mother know that to-night, when the moon rises,\nthere will be three human sacrifices at the stones of the forest of\nKarnak?\"\n\n\"We know,\" answered Joel, \"that all the tribes have been convened to\nappear this evening at the forest of Karnak. But who are the people that\nare to be sacrificed and will be pleasing to Hesus, dear daughter?\"\n\n\"First of all Daoulas the murderer: he killed Houarne without a fight\nand in his sleep. The druids have sentenced him to die this evening. The\nblood of a cowardly murderer is an expiation agreeable to Hesus.\"\n\n\"And the second sacrifice?\"\n\n\"Our relative Julyan wishes, out of friendship, to rejoin Armel, whom he\nloyally killed in a contest. This evening, glorified by the chant of the\nbards, he will go, agreeable to his vow, and join Armel in the unknown\nworlds. The blood of a brave man, voluntarily offered to Hesus, is\nagreeable to him.\"\n\n\"And the third sacrifice, dear child?\" asked Mamm' Margarid; \"Who is\nit?\"\n\nHena did not answer. She dropped her blonde and charming head upon the\nknees of Margarid, remained a while in a revery, kissed her mother's\nhands and said to her with a sweet smile that brought back old\nremembrances:\n\n\"How often did not little Hena, when still a child, fall asleep of an\nevening on your knees, mother, while you spun at your distaff, and when\nall of you now present, except Albinik, were gathered at the hearth,\nnarrating the virile virtues of our mothers and our fathers of old!\"\n\n\"It is true, dear daughter,\" answered Margarid caressingly passing her\nhand over the blonde hair of her child; \"it is true. And here among us\nwe all loved you so much for your good heart and your infantine grace,\nthat when we saw you had fallen asleep on my knees, we all spoke in a\nlow voice not to awake you.\"\n\nStumpy, who was among the crowd of relatives, put in:\n\n\"But who is that third human sacrifice, that is to appease Hesus and\ndeliver us from war? Who, Hena, is the third to be sacrificed this\nevening?\"\n\n\"I shall tell you, Stumpy, when I shall have had a little time to\nmeditate upon the past,\" answered the young maid dreamily, without\nleaving her mother's knees; and passing her hand over her forehead as if\nto refreshen her memory, she looked around, pointed to the stone where\nstood the copper bowl with the seven twigs of mistletoe and proceeded\nsaying:\n\n\"When I was twelve, do my father and mother remember how happy I was at\nhaving been selected by the female druids of the Isle of Sen to receive\nin a veil of linen, whitened in the dew of night, the mistletoe which\nthe druids cut with a gold sickle at the moment when the moon shed its\nclearest light? Do my father and mother remember how, bringing home the\nmistletoe to sanctify our home, I was taken hither by the ewaghs in a\nchariot decked with flowers and greens while the bards sang the glory of\nHesus? What tender embraces did not my whole family lavish upon me at my\nreturn! What a feast it was in our tribe!\"\n\n\"Dear, dear daughter,\" said Margarid pressing Hena's head against her\nmaternal breast, \"if the female druids chose you to receive the sacred\nmistletoe in a linen veil, it was because your soul was as pure as the\nveil.\"\n\n\"It was because little Hena was the bravest of all her companions, she\nalmost perished in the attempt to save Janed, the daughter of Wor, who,\nas she was gathering shells on the rocks along the shore of Glen'-Hek,\nfell into the water and was being carried away by the waves,\" said\nMikael the armorer, tenderly contemplating his sister.\n\n\"It was because, beyond all others, little Hena was sweet, patient and\nkind to the children; it was because, when only twelve, she instructed\nthem like at matron at the cottage of the female druids of the Isle of\nSen,\" said Guilhern in his turn.\n\nThe daughter of Joel blushed with modesty at the words of her mother and\nbrothers; but Stumpy insisted:\n\n\"But who is that third human sacrifice that is to appease Hesus and\ndeliver us from war? Who is it, Hena, who is it to be sacrificed this\nevening?\"\n\n\"I shall tell you, Stumpy,\" answered the young maid rising; \"I shall\ntell you after I have once more looked at the dear little chamber where\nI used to sleep when, having grown unto maidenhood, I came here from the\nIsle of Sen to attend our family feasts.\" And stepping towards the door\nof the chamber, she stopped for a moment at the threshold and said:\n\n\"What sweet nights have I spent there after retiring for the evening,\nregretful of leaving you! With what impatience did I not rise in the\nmorning to meet you again!\"\n\nTaking two steps into the little chamber, while her family felt ever\nmore astonished at hearing Hena, still so young, thus dwell upon the\npast, the young maid proceeded, taking up several articles that lay upon\na little table:\n\n\"This is the sea-shell necklace that I entertained myself making in the\nevening sitting beside my mother.... These are the little dried twigs\nthat resemble trees, and that I gathered from our rocks.... This is the\nnet which I used when the tide was going out to catch little fishes\nwith; how the sport used to amuse me!... There are the rolls of white\nskin on which, every time I came here, I recorded my joy at meeting my\nrelatives and again seeing the house of my birth.... I find everything\nin its place. I am glad of having gathered these young girl's\ntreasures.\"\n\nStumpy, however, whom these mementoes did not seem to affect, again\nrepeated in his sour and impatient voice:\n\n\"But who is to be the third human sacrifice that is to appease Hesus\nand deliver us from war? Who, Hena, is to be sacrificed this evening?\"\n\n\"I shall let you know, Stumpy,\" answered Hena smiling. \"I shall let you\nknow after I shall have distributed my little treasures among you\nall,--you among them, Stumpy.\"\n\nSaying this, the daughter of the brenn motioned to her relatives to\nenter the chamber, and in the midst of the silent astonishment of all\nshe gave a souvenir to each. Each, even of the little ones who loved her\nso much and also Stumpy received something. In order to make her gifts\nreach around, she loosened the sea-shell necklace and split up the dry\ntwigs, saying in her sweet voice to each:\n\n\"Keep this, I pray you, out of friendship for Hena, your relative and\nfriend.\"\n\nJoel, his wife and his three children, to all of whom Hena had not yet\ngiven aught, looked at one another all the more astonished at what she\ndid, seeing that towards the end tears appeared in her eyes although the\nyoung maid gave no other token of sadness. When all the others were\nsupplied, Hena took from her neck the garnet necklace that she wore and\nsaid to Margarid while kissing her hand:\n\n\"Hena prays her mother to keep this out of love for her.\"\n\nShe then took the little rolls of white skin that had been prepared for\nwriting on, handed them to Joel and kissing his hand said:\n\n\"Hena prays her father to keep this roll out of love for her; he will\nthere find her most cherished thoughts.\"\n\nDetaching thereupon from her arm her two garnet bracelets, Hena said to\nthe wife of her brother Guilhern, the laborer:\n\n\"Hena prays her sister Henory to wear this bracelet out of love for\nher.\"\n\nAnd giving the other bracelet to her brother the mariner she said:\n\n\"Your wife, Meroe, whom I love as much for her courage as for her noble\nheart, is to keep this bracelet as a souvenir from me.\"\n\nHena then took from her copper belt the little gold sickle and crescent\nthat hung from it. She tendered the former to Guilhern the laborer, the\nsecond to Albinik the mariner, and taking a ring from her finger she\ngave it to Mikael the armorer, saying to the three:\n\n\"I wish my brothers to preserve these keepsakes out of love for their\nsister Hena.\"\n\nAll those present remained astonished and holding in their hands the\ngifts that the virgin of the Isle of Sen had delivered to them. They all\nremained standing and so speechless with astonishment that none could\nutter a word, but looked uneasily at one another as if threatened by\nsome unknown disaster. Hena finally turned to Stumpy:\n\n\"Stumpy,\" said she, \"I shall now let you know who is to be the third\nsacrifice of this evening;\" and taking the hands of Joel and Margarid\nshe gently led them back into the large hall, whither all the others\nfollowed. Arrived there, Hena addressed her parents and assembled\nrelatives:\n\n\"My father and mother know that the blood of a cowardly murderer is an\nexpiatory offering to Hesus, and that it might appease him--\"\n\n\"Yes--you told us so, dear daughter.\"\n\n\"They also know that the blood of a brave man who dies in pledge of\nfriendship is a valorous offering to Hesus, and that it might appease\nhim.\"\n\n\"Yes--you told us so, dear daughter.\"\n\n\"Finally, my father and mother know that the most acceptable of all\nofferings to Hesus and most likely to appease him is the innocent blood\nof a virgin, happy and proud at the thought of offering her blood to\nHesus, and of doing so voluntarily--voluntarily--in the hope that that\nall-powerful god may deliver our beloved fatherland, this dear and\nsacred fatherland of our fathers, from foreign oppression!... Thus the\ninnocent blood of a virgin will flow this evening to appease the wrath\nof Hesus.\"\n\n\"And her name?\" asked Stumpy, \"the name of that virgin who is to deliver\nus from war!\"\n\nHena looked towards her father and mother with tenderness and serenity\nand said:\n\n\"The virgin who is to die is one of the nine female druids of the Isle\nof Sen. Her name is Hena. She is the daughter of Margarid and Joel, the\nbrenn of the tribe of Karnak!\"\n\nDeep silence fell upon the family of Joel. None, not one present,\nexpected to see Hena travel so soon yonder. None, not one present,\nneither her father, nor her mother, nor her brothers, nor any of her\nother relatives, was prepared for the farewells of the sudden journey.\n\nThe children joined their little hands and said weeping:\n\n\"What!... Leave us so soon?... Our Hena?... Why do you journey away?\"\n\nThe father and mother looked at each other and sighed.\n\nMargarid said to Hena: \"Joel and Margarid believed that they would have\nto wait for their dear daughter in those unknown worlds, where we\ncontinue to live and where we meet again those whom we have loved\nhere.... But it is to be otherwise. It is Hena who will precede us.\"\n\n\"And perhaps,\" said the brenn, \"our sweet and dear daughter will not\nlong have to wait for us--\"\n\n\"May her blood, innocent and pure as a lamb's, appease the wrath of\nHesus!\" added Margarid; \"May we soon be able to follow our dear daughter\nand inform her that Gaul is delivered from the stranger.\"\n\n\"And the remembrance of the valiant sacrifice of our daughter shall be\nkept alive in our race,\" said the father; \"so long as the descendants of\nJoel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, shall live they will be proud to\nnumber among their ancestors Hena, the virgin of the Isle of Sen.\"\n\nThe young maid made no answer. Her eyes wandered with sweet avidity from\none relative to the other as, at the moment of undertaking a journey,\nthe departing one takes a last look at the beloved beings from whom he\nis to be separated for a while.\n\nPointing through the open door at the moon that, now at her fullest, was\nseen across the evening mist rising large-orbed and ruddy like a burning\ndisk, Stumpy cried:\n\n\"Hena!... Hena! The moon is rising above the horizon....\"\n\n\"You are right, Stumpy; this is the hour,\" she said, unwillingly taking\nher eyes from the faces of her beloved family. An instant later she\nadded:\n\n\"Let my father and mother and all the members of my family accompany me\nto the sacred stones of the forest of Karnak.... The hour of the\nsacrifice has come.\"\n\nWalking between Joel and Margarid, and followed by all the members of\nthe tribe, Hena walked serenely to the forest of Karnak.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTHE FOREST OF KARNAK.\n\n\nThe call for assembling that was issued to the tribes at noon, had run\nfrom mouth to mouth, from village to village, from town to town. It was\nheard all over Breton Gaul. Towards evening the tribes proceeded en\nmasse--men, women and children--to the forest of Karnak, the same as\nJoel and his family.\n\nThe moon, at her fullest on that night, shone radiant amid the stars in\nthe firmament. After having marched through the dark and the lighted\nspots of the forest, the assembling multitude finally arrived at the\nshores of the sea. The sacred stones of Karnak rose there in nine long\navenues. They are sacred stones! They are the gigantic pillars of a\ntemple that has the sky for its vault.\n\nIn the measure that the tribes drew nearer to the place, their solemnity\ndeepened.\n\nAt the extremity of the avenue, the three stones of the sacrificial\naltar were ranged in a semi-circle, close to the shore. Behind the mass\nof people rose the deep and brooding forest, before them extended the\nboundless sea, above them spread the starry firmament.\n\nThe tribes did not step beyond the last avenue of Karnak. They left a\nwide space between themselves and the altar. The large crowd remained\nsilent.\n\nAt the feet of the sacrificial stones rose three pyres.\n\nThe center one, the largest of the three, was ornamented with long white\nveils striped with purple; it was also ornamented with ash, oak and\nbirch-tree branches, arranged in mystical order.\n\nThe pyre to the right was somewhat less high, but was also ornamented\nwith green branches besides sheafs of wheat. On it lay the body of\nArmel, who had been killed in loyal combat. It was almost hidden under\ngreen and fruit-bearing boughs.\n\nThe left pyre was surmounted with a hollow bunch of twisted osiers\nbearing the resemblance of a human body of gigantic stature.\n\nThe sound of cymbals and harps was presently heard from the distance.\n\nThe male and female druids, together with the virgins of the Isle of Sen\nwere approaching the sacrificial place.\n\nAt the head of the procession marched the bards, dressed in long white\ntunics that were held around their waists by brass belts; their temples\nwere wreathed in oak leaves; they sang while playing upon their harps:\n\"God, Gaul and her heroes.\"\n\nThey were followed by the ewaghs charged with the sacrifices, and\ncarrying torches and axes; they led in their midst and in chains\nDaoulas, the murderer who was to be executed.\n\nBehind these marched the druids themselves, clad in their purple-striped\nwhite robes, and their temples also wreathed in oak leaves. In their\nmidst was Julyan, happy and proud; Julyan who was glad to leave this\nworld in order to rejoin his friend Armel, and journey in his company\nover the unknown worlds.\n\nFinally came the married female druids, clad in white tunics with gold\nbelts, and the nine virgins of the Isle of Sen, clad in their black\ntunics, their belts of brass, their arms bare, their green chaplets and\ntheir gold harps. Hena walked at the head of the latter. Her eyes looked\nfor her father, her mother and her relatives--Joel, Margarid and their\nfamily had been placed in the front rank of the crowd--they soon\nrecognized their daughter; their hearts went out to her.\n\nThe druids ranked themselves beside the sacrificial stones. The bards\nceased chanting. One of the ewaghs than said to the crowd, that all who\nwished to be remembered to people whom they had loved and who were no\nlonger here, could deposit their letters and offering on the pyres.\n\nA large number of relatives and friends of those who had long been\ntraveling yonder, thereupon piously approached the pyres, and deposited\nletters, flowers and other souvenirs that were to re-appear in the other\nworlds, the same as the souls of the bodies that were about to dissolve\nin brilliant flames, were to re-appear in a new body.\n\nNobody, however, not one single person, deposited aught on the pyre of\nthe murderer. As proud and joyful as Julyan was, Daoulas was crestfallen\nand frightened. Julyan had everything to hope for from the continuance\nof a life that had been uniformly pure and just. The murderer had\neverything to fear from the continuance of a life that was stained with\ncrime. After all the offerings for the departed ones were deposited on\nthe pyres, a profound silence followed.\n\nThe ewaghs led Daoulas in chains to the osier effigy. Despite the\npitiful cries of the condemned man, he was pinioned and placed at the\nfoot of the pyre, and the ewaghs remained near him, axes in hand.\n\nTalyessin, the oldest of all the druids, an old man with long white\nbeard, made a sign to one of the bards, who thereupon struck his\nthree-stringed harp and intonated the following chant, after pointing to\nthe murderer:\n\n\"This man is of the tribe of Morlech. He killed Houarne of the same\ntribe. Did he kill him, like a brave man face to face with equal\nweapons? No, Daoulas killed Houarne like a coward. At the noon hour,\nHouarne was asleep under a tree. Daoulas approached him on tiptoe, axe\nin hand and killed his victim with one blow. Little Erick of the same\ntribe, who happened to be in a near-by tree picking fruit, saw the\nmurder and him who committed it. On the evening of the same day the\newaghs seized Daoulas in his tribe. Brought before the druids of Karnak\nand confronted by Erick, he confessed his crime. Whereupon the oldest of\nthe druids said:\n\n\"'In the name of Hesus, _He who is because he is_, in the name of\nTeutates, who presides over journeys in this world and in the others,\nhear: The expiatory blood of the murderer is agreeable to Hesus.... You\nare about to be born again in other worlds. Your new life will be\nterrible, because you were cruel and cowardly.... You will die to be\nre-born in still greater wretchedness forever and ever through all\neternity.... Become, on the contrary, from the moment that you are\nre-born, brave and good, despite the sufferings that you will endure and\nyou will then die happy, to be re-born yonder, thus forever and ever,\nthrough all eternity!!!'\"\n\nThe bard then addressed himself to the murderer, who emitted fearful\ncries of terror.\n\nThus spoke the venerable druid: \"Daoulas, you are about to die ... and\nto meet your victim.... _He is waiting for you, he is waiting for you!_\"\n\nWhen the bard pronounced these words, a shudder went through the\nassembled crowd. The fearful thought of meeting in the next world alive\nhim who was killed in this made them all tremble.\n\nThe bard proceeded, turning towards the pyre:\n\n\"Daoulas, you are about to die! It is a glorious thing to see the face\nof a brave and just person at the moment when he or she voluntarily\nquits this world for some sacred cause. They love, at the moment of\ntheir departure to see the tender looks of farewell of their parents and\nfriends. Cowards like yourself, Daoulas, are unworthy of taking a last\nlook at the just. Hence, Daoulas, you will die and burn hidden in that\nenvelop of osier, the effigy of a man, as you have become since the\ncommission of the murder.\"\n\nAnd the bard cried:\n\n\"In the name of Hesus! In the name of Teutates! Glory, glory to the\nbrave! Shame, shame on the coward!\"\n\nAll the bards struck upon their harps and their cymbals, and cried in\nchorus:\n\n\"Glory, glory to the brave! Shame, shame on the coward!\"\n\nAn ewagh then took up a sacred knife, cut off the murderer's life and\ncast his body inside of the huge osier effigy of a man. The pyre was set\non fire. The harps and cymbals struck up in chorus, and all the tribes\nrepeated aloud the last words of the bard:\n\n\"Shame on the coward!\"\n\nSoon the murderer's pyre was a raging mass of flame, within which was\nseen for a moment the effigy of a man like a giant on fire. The flames\nlighted the tops of the oaks of the forest, the colossal stones of\nKarnak, and even the vast expanse of the sea, while the moon inundated\nthe space with its divine light. A few minutes later there was nothing\nleft but a heap of ashes where the pyre of Daoulas had stood.\n\nJulyan was then seen ascending with radiant mien the pyre where lay the\nbody of Armel, his friend--his pledged brother. Julyan had on his\nholiday clothes: a blouse of fine material striped white and blue, held\naround his waist by an embroidered leather belt, from which hung his\nknife. His caped cloak of brown wool was held by a brooch over his left\nshoulder. An oak crown decked his manly head. He held in his hand a\nnosegay of vervain. He looked serene and bold. Hardly had he ascended\nthe pyre, when again the harps and cymbals struck up, and the bard\nchanted:\n\n\"Who is this? He is a brave man! It is Julyan the laborer; Julyan of the\nfamily of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak! He fears the gods, and\nall love him. He is good, he is industrious, he is brave. He killed\nArmel not in hate but in a contest, in loyal combat, buckler on arm,\nsword in hand, like a true Breton Gaul, who loves to display his bravery\nand does not fear death. Armel having departed, Julyan, who had pledged\nbrotherhood to him, wishes to depart also and join his friend. Glory to\nJulyan, faithful to the teachings of the druids. He knows that the\ncreatures of the All-Powerful never die, and his pure and noble blood\nJulyan now offers up to Hesus. Glory, hope and happiness to Julyan! He\nhas been good, just and brave. He will be re-born still happier, still\njuster, still braver, and ever onward, from world to world, Julyan will\nbe re-born, his soul being ever re-incarnated in a new body the same as\nthe body that here puts on new clothes.\"\n\n\"Oh, Gauls! Ye proud souls, to whom death does not exist! Come, come!\nRemove your eyes from this earth; rise to the sublimity of heaven. See,\nsee at your feet the abyss of space, dotted by these myriads of mortals\nas are all of us, and whom Teutates guides incessantly from the world\nthat they have lived in towards the world that they are next to inhabit.\nOh, what unknown worlds and marvelous we shall journey through, with our\nfriends and our relatives that have preceded us, and with those whom we\nshall precede!\"\n\n\"No, we are not mortals! Our infinite lives are numbered by myriads and\nmyriads of centuries, just as are numbered by myriads of myriads the\nstars in the firmament--mysterious worlds, ever different, ever new,\nthat we are successively to inhabit.\"\n\n\"Let those fear death who, faithful to the false gods of the Greeks, the\nRomans and the Jews, believe that man lives only once, and that after\nthat, stripped of his body, the happy or unhappy soul remains eternally\nin the same hell or the same paradise! Aye! They are bound to fear death\nwho believe that when man quits this life he finds _immobility in\neternity_.\"\n\n\"We Gauls have the right knowledge of God. We hold the secret of death.\n_Man is immortal both in body and soul._ Our destiny from world to world\nis to see and learn, to the end that at each of these journeys, if we\nhave led wicked and impure lives, we may purify ourselves and become\nbetter--still better if we have been just and good; and that thus, from\nnew birth to new birth man rises incessantly towards perfection as\nendless as his life!\"\n\n\"Happy, therefore, are the brave who voluntarily leave this world for\nother regions where they will ever see new and marvelous sights in the\ncompany of those whom they have loved! Happy, therefore, happy the brave\nJulyan! He is about to meet again with his friend, and with him see and\nknow _what none of us has yet seen or known, and what all of us shall\nsee and know_! Happy Julyan! Glory, glory to Julyan!\"\n\nAnd all the bards and all the druids, the female druids and the virgins\nof the Isle of Sen repeated in chorus to the sound of the harps and the\ncymbals:\n\n\"Happy, Happy Julyan! Glory to Julyan!\"\n\nAnd all the tribes, feeling the thrill of curiosity of death and certain\nthat they all would eventually become acquainted with the marvels of the\nother worlds, repeated with their thousands of voices:\n\n\"Happy Julyan! Happy Julyan!\"\n\nStanding erect upon his pyre, his face radiant, and at his feet the body\nof Armel, Julyan raised his inspired eyes towards the brilliant moon,\nopened his blouse, drew his long knife, held up the nosegay of vervain\nto heaven with his left hand, and with his right firmly plunged his\nknife into his breast, uttering as he did so in a strong voice:\n\n\"Happy--happy am I. I am to join Armel!\"\n\nThe pyre was immediately lighted. Julyan, raised for a last, time his\nnosegay of vervain to heaven, and then vanished in the midst of the\nblinding flames, while the chants of the bards and the clang of harp and\ncymbals resounded far and wide.\n\nIn their impatience to see and know the mysteries of the other world, a\nlarge number of men and women of the tribes rushed towards Julyan's pyre\nfor the purpose of departing with him and of offering to Hesus an\nimmense hecatomb with their bodies. But Talyessin, the eldest of the\ndruids, ordered the ewaghs to restrain and hold these faithful people\nback. He cried out to them:\n\n\"Enough blood has flown without that which is still to flow. But the\nhour has come when the blood of Gaul should flow only for freedom. The\nblood that is shed for liberty is also an agreeable offering to the\nAll-Powerful.\"\n\nIt was not without great effort that the ewaghs prevented the threatened\nrush of voluntary human sacrifices. The pyre of Julyan and Armel burned\nuntil the flames had nothing more to feed upon.\n\nAgain profound silence fell upon the crowd. Hena, the virgin of the Isle\nof Sen, had ascended the third pyre.\n\nJoel and Margarid, their three sons, Guilhern, Albinik and Mikael,\nGuilhern's wife and little children all of whom so dearly loved Hena,\nall her relatives and all the members of her tribe held one another in a\nclose embrace, and said to one another:\n\n\"There is Hena.... There is our Hena!\"\n\nAs the virgin of the Isle of Sen stood upon the pyre that was ornamented\nwith white veils, greens and flowers, the crowds of the tribes cried in\none voice: \"How beautiful she is!... How holy!\"\n\nJoel writes it now down in all sincerity. His daughter Hena was indeed\nvery beautiful as she stood erect on the pyre, lighted by the mellow\nlight of the moon and resplendent in her black tunic, her blonde hair\nand her green chaplet, while her arms, whiter than ivory, embraced her\ngold harp!\n\nThe bards ordered silence.\n\nThe virgin of the Isle of Sen sang in a voice as pure as her own soul:\n\n\"The daughter of Joel and Margarid comes to offer gladly her life as a\nsacrifice to Hesus!\n\n\"Oh, All-Powerful! From the stranger deliver the soil of our father!\n\n\"Gauls of Britanny, you have the lance and the sword!\n\n\"The daughter of Joel and Margarid has but her blood. She offers it\nvoluntarily to Hesus!\n\n\"Oh, Almighty God! Render invincible the Gallic lance and sword! Oh,\nHesus, take my blood, it is yours ... save our sacred fatherland!\"\n\nThe eldest of the female druids stood all this while on the pyre behind\nHena with the sacred knife in her hand. When Hena's chant was ended, the\nknife glistened in the air and struck the virgin of the Isle of Sen.\n\nHer mother and her brothers, all the members of her tribe and her father\nJoel saw Hena fall upon her knees, cross her arms, turn her celestial\nface towards the moon, and cry with a still sonorous voice:\n\n\"Hesus ... Hesus ... by the blood that flows.... Mercy for Gaul!\"\n\n\"Gauls, by this blood that flows, victory to our arms!\"\n\nThus the sacrifice of Hena was consummated amidst the religious\nadmiration of the tribes. All repeated the last words of the brave\nvirgin:\n\n\"Hesus, mercy for Gaul!... Gauls, victory to our arms!\"\n\nSeveral young men, being fired with enthusiasm by the heroic example and\nbeauty of Hena sought to kill themselves upon her pyre in order to be\nre-born with her. The ewaghs held them back. The flames soon enveloped\nthe pyre and Hena vanished in their dazzling splendor. A few minutes\nlater there was nothing left of the virgin and her pyre but a heap of\nashes. A high wind sat in from the sea and dispersed the atoms. The\nvirgin of the Isle of Sen, brilliant and pure as the flame that consumed\nher, had vanished into space to be re-born and to await beyond for the\narrival of those whom she had loved.\n\nThe cymbals and harps resounded anew, and the chief of the bards struck\nup the chant:\n\n\"To arms, ye Gauls, to arms!\n\n\"The innocent blood of a virgin flowed for your sakes, and shall not\nyours flow for the fatherland! To arms! The Romans are here. Strike,\nGauls, strike at their heads! Strike hard! See the enemy's blood flow\nlike a stream! It rises up to your knees! Courage! Strike hard! Gauls,\nstrike the Romans! Still harder! Harder still! You see the enemy's\nblood extend like a lake! It rises up to your chests! Courage! Strike\nstill harder, Gauls! Strike the Romans! Strike harder still! You will\nrest to-morrow.... To-morrow Gaul will be free! Let, to-day, from the\nLoire to the ocean, but one cry resound--'To arms!'\"\n\nAs if carried away by the breath of war, all the tribes dispersed,\nrunning to their arms. The moon had gone down; dark night set in. But\nfrom all parts of the woods, from the bottoms of the valleys, from the\ntops of the hills where the signal fires were burning, a thousand voices\nechoed and re-echoed the chant of the bards:\n\n\"To arms! Strike, Gauls! Strike hard at the Romans! To arms!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe above truthful account of all that happened at our poor home on the\nbirthday of my glorious Hena, a day that also saw her heroic\nsacrifice--that account has been written by me, Joel, the brenn of the\ntribe of Karnak, at the last moon of October of the first year that\nJulius Caesar came to invade Gaul. I wrote it upon the rolls of white\nskin that my glorious daughter Hena gave me as a keepsake, and my eldest\nson, Guilhern has attached to them the keepsake he received from\nher--the mystic gold sickle of the virgin druid priestess. Let the two\never remain together.\n\nAfter me, my eldest son Guilhern shall carefully preserve both the\nwriting and the emblem, and after Guilhern, the sons of his sons are\ncharged to transmit them from generation to generation, to the end that\nour family may for all time preserve green the memory of Hena, the\nvirgin of the Isle of Sen.\n\n\n(The End.)\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE INFANT'S SKULL; OR THE END OF THE WORLD.\n\nBy EUGENE SUE.\n\n_Translated from the original French_ By DANIEL DE LEON.\n\nThis is one of that series of thrilling stories by Eugene Sue in which\nhistoric personages and events are so artistically grouped that, without\nthe fiction losing by the otherwise solid facts and without the solid\nfacts suffering by the fiction, both are enhanced and combinedly act as\na flash-light upon the past--and no less so upon the future.\n\nPRICE, FIFTY CENTS.\n\nNew York Labor News Co. 2, 4 & 6 New Reade Street New York, N. Y.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE PILGRIM'S SHELL\n\nOR\n\nFERGAN THE QUARRYMAN\n\nBy Eugene Sue.\n\nTranslated by Daniel De Leon.\n\n283 pp., on fine book paper, cloth 75 cents.\n\nThis great historical story by the eminent French writer is one of the\nmajestic series that cover the leading and successive episodes of the\nhistory of the human race. The novel treats of the feudal system, the\nfirst Crusade and the rise of the Communes in France. It is the only\ntranslation into English of this masterpiece of Sue.\n\nThe New York Sun says:\n\nEugene Sue wrote a romance which seems to have disappeared in a curious\nfashion, called \"Les Mysteres du Peuple.\" It is the story of a Gallic\nfamily through the ages, told in successive episodes, and, so far as we\nhave been able to read it, is fully as interesting as \"The Wandering\nJew\" or \"The Mysteries of Paris.\" The French edition is pretty hard to\nfind, and only parts have been translated into English. We don't know\nthe reason. One medieval episode, telling of the struggle of the\ncommunes for freedom, is now translated by Mr. Daniel De Leon, under the\ntitle \"The Pilgrim's Shell\" (New York Labor News Co.). We trust the\nsuccess of his effort may be such as to lead him to translate the rest\nof the romance. It will be the first time the feat has been done in\nEnglish.\n\nNEW YORK LABOR NEWS CO., 2, 4 & 6 New Reade St., New York.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWoman Under Socialism\n\nBy August Bebel\n\nTranslated from the Original German of the Thirty-third Edition by\nDaniel De Leon, Editor of the New York Daily People, with translator's\npreface and foot notes.\n\nCloth, 400 pages, with pen drawing of the author.\n\nPrice, $1.00\n\nThe complete emancipation of woman, and her complete equality with man\nis the final goal of our social development, whose realization no power\non earth can prevent;--and this realization is possible only by a social\nchange that shall abolish the rule of man over man--hence also of\ncapitalists over working-men. Only then will the human race reach its\nhighest development. The \"Golden Age\" that man has been dreaming of for\nthousands of years, and after which they have been longing, will have\ncome at last. Class rule will have reached its end for all time, and\nalong with it, the rule of man over woman.\n\nCONTENTS:\n\n    WOMAN IN THE PAST.\n      Before Christianity.\n      Under Christianity.\n    WOMAN IN THE PRESENT.\n      Sexual Instinct, Wedlock, Checks and Obstructions to Marriage.\n      Further Checks and Obstructions to Marriage, Numerical Proportion of\n        the Sexes, Its Causes and Effects.\n      Prostitution a Necessary Institution of the Capitalist World.\n      Woman's Position as a Breadwinner. Her Intellectual Faculties,\n        Darwinism and the Condition of Society.\n      Woman's Civic and Political Status.\n      The State and Society.\n      The Socialization of Society.\n    WOMAN IN THE FUTURE.\n    INTERNATIONALITY.\n    POPULATION AND OVER-POPULATION.\n\nNEW YORK LABOR NEWS CO. 2-6 New Reade St. New York City\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Paris Commune\n\nBy Karl Marx, with the elaborate introduction of Frederick Engels. It\nincludes the First and Second manifestos of the International\nWorkingman's Association, the Civil War in France and the\nAnti-Plebiscite Manifesto. Near his close of the Civil War in France,\nturning from history to forecast the future, Marx says:\n\n\"After Whit-Sunday, 1871, there can be neither peace nor truce possible\nbetween the Workingmen of France and the appropriators of their produce.\nThe iron hand of a mercenary soldiery may keep for a time both classes\ntied down in common oppression. But the battle must break out in ever\ngrowing dimensions, and there can be no doubt as to who will be the\nvictor in the end--the appropriating few, or the immense working\nmajority. And the French working class is only the vanguard of the\nmodern proletariat.\"\n\nPrice, 50 cents.\n\nNew York Labor News Co.\n2, 4, & 6 New Reade Street,\nNew York City.","title":"The Gold Sickle; Or, Hena, The Virgin of The Isle of Sen. A Tale of Druid Gaul","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":25447}