The linendraper was about to leave the salon when the Count of Plouernel said to him: "Well, monsieur, to judge by the course things are taking, together with your republican opinions, it is quite possible that I may have the honor of meeting you to-morrow on a barricade." "I know not what may happen, monsieur," answered the linendraper; "but I neither fear nor desire such an encounter." And then, with a smile, he added: "I think, monsieur, that the order for linen may be canceled." "I think so, too, monsieur," replied the colonel, bowing stiffly to Lebrenn, who left the salon. CHAPTER VII. "THE SWORD OF BRENNUS." While Marik Lebrenn was holding the conversation, just reported, with the Count of Plouernel, the merchant's wife and daughter were, as was their custom, busy in the shop, over which hung the sign--_The Sword of Brennus_. While her daughter was engaged with her needle, Madam Lebrenn saw to the books of the establishment. She was a tall woman of forty. Her face, at once serious and kind, preserved the traces of extraordinary beauty. In the cadence of her voice, her carriage, and her countenance there was a certain calmness and firmness that conveyed a high opinion of her nature. A glance at her was enough to remind one that our mothers, the Gallic women, took part in the councils of the nation on critical occasions, and that such was the valor of those matrons that Diodorus Siculus expresses himself in these terms: "The women of Gaul vie with the men not in tallness only, they also match them by their moral strength." And Strabo adds these significant words: "The Gallic women are fertile and good teachers."