"Before it came to that I would have treated myself to the sport of hewing several of them down with my saber," coolly replied the colonel. "In that event it will not be difficult for you to find some sturdy Plouernel bastard of my own making--whom you will then adopt, uncle. He will perpetuate my name. Bastards often have brought good luck to great houses." "Triple fool! To play with your life in that manner! And that at the very moment when the future smiles upon us as it never smiled before! At the moment when, after having been beaten, kicked and cuffed by the descendants of the men who for fourteen centuries were our vassals and serfs, we are about to wipe out at a single stroke these last fifty years of shame! At the moment when, instructed by experience, and aided by the course of events, we are about to resume our power and become even mightier than we were in 1789! Go to--I pity you! You are right, races degenerate!" exclaimed the intractable old man, rising. "I would despair of our cause if all our people were like you." The valet, stepping in again after rapping at the door, said to the Count of Plouernel: "Monsieur Count, the linendraper of St. Denis Street has arrived. He is waiting in the ante-chamber." "Take him to the salon of the portraits." The valet left; the colonel said to the Cardinal, whom he saw angrily picking up his hat and moving towards the door: "For God's sake, uncle, do not go away angry, in that way--" "I am not going away angry; I am going away ashamed." "Come, dear uncle, you will think better of me." "Will you, yes or no, depart with me for England?" "Impossible, uncle." "Then go to the devil!" was the rather uncanonical shout with which the Cardinal furiously took his leave, slamming the door behind him. CHAPTER VI. JOEL AND NEROWEG. Marik Lebrenn had been taken by order of the Count of Plouernel into a richly furnished salon. From the walls hung a number of family portraits. Some wore the cuirass of knights, others the white cross and red cloak of the Templars, others the civilian dress of noblemen, still others the ermine of a peer of France, or the purple of the Princes of the Church.