This severe but elegant costume consisted of a rather long black jacket elaborately embroidered with yellow on the collar and sleeves, and still further ornamented with rows of tiny silver buttons set very close together. The waistcoat, too, was black, and trimmed with embroidery and buttons to match the jacket. A broad sash of orange silk encircled the waist. Large trousers of white linen, almost as wide as the floating skirt of the Greek Palikares, extended to the knee. Below, his shapely limbs were encased in tight-fitting buckskin leggings. He wore a round, nearly flat hat, encircled with an orange ribbon embroidered with silver, the ends of which hung down upon his shoulders. Thanks to this costume and to his thick golden hair, his eyes blue as the sea itself, his strong features, and his admirable carriage, Cloarek was an admirable type of the valiant race of Breton Bretons, of the sturdy sons of Armorica, as the historians style them. When he entered his wife's room, Yvon's face was still a trifle clouded, and though he made a powerful effort to conceal the feelings which the exciting events of the day had aroused, his wife, whose apprehensions had already been awakened by Dame Roberts's warning, was struck by the expression of his face. He, entirely ignorant of these suspicions on her part, having done everything possible to conceal the disquieting occurrences of the day from her, approached very slowly and pausing a few steps from his wife, asked, smilingly: "Well, how do you like my costume, Jenny? I hope I am faithful to the traditions of my native province, and that I shall represent Brittany creditably at the fête?" "There isn't the slightest doubt that the costume of your native province is wonderfully becoming," replied the young mother, with some embarrassment. "Really? Well, I am delighted," said Yvon, kissing his wife fondly; "you know I set great store by your approval even in the most trifling matters, my dear." "Yes," replied Madame Cloarek, with deep feeling, "yes, I know your tender love for me, your deference to my slightest wish." "Great credit I deserve for that! It is so easy and pleasant to defer to you, my Jenny,--to bow this hard, stiff Breton neck before you, and say: 'I abdicate to you. Command; I will obey.'" "Ah, my dear Yvon, if you only knew how happy it makes me to hear you say that, to-day especially." These last words failed to attract Yvon's attention, however, and he continued: "What are the little concessions I make, my dearest, in comparison with the blissful happiness I owe to you? Think," he added, turning to the crib, "this little angel that is the joy of my life, who gave her to me?" And he was about to open the curtains, when his wife said to him, warningly: "Take care, Yvon, she is asleep." "Let me just take one peep at her, only one. I have not seen her all day." "The light of the lamp might arouse her, my dear, and the poor little thing has just had such a trying time."