"Oh!" cried the merchant with moist eyes. "I recognize them by their conduct! It is like themselves, the proletarians--they who uttered the sublime sentiment: _We gave three months of misery to the service of the Republic_, they the poor workingmen in the civil service, who were the first to be struck by the commercial crisis! And yet, behold them, the first to offer to the country the little that they possess--half their morrow's bread, perhaps!" "And these men," added Madam Lebrenn, "who set such a noble example to the rich and the happy of the land; these men who display so much abnegation, such broadness of heart, so much resignation, so much patriotism, are they not to escape from their servitude! What, are their intelligence and industry forever to remain sterile only to themselves! Is for them a family ever to be the source of worry, the present a continuous privation, the future a frightful nightmare, and property a sardonic dream! No, no, you God of Justice! These men who have triumphed with so much grandeur have at last climbed to the top of their Calvary! The day of justice has come for them also! With your father, my children, I say--this is a glorious day, a day of equity and of justice, free from all taint of vengeance!" "And those sacred words are the symbol of the emancipation of the workers!" exclaimed Monsieur Lebrenn pointing to the inscription in front of the church: LIBERTY--EQUALITY--FRATERNITY. CHAPTER XII. THE GALLEY-SLAVE AND THE GENERAL. About eighteen months have elapsed since the memorable day of the imposing ceremonies described in the previous chapter, that were so rich with splendid promises to France--and all the world. It is after the lapse of that period that we are now to meet again Marik Lebrenn and his family. The following scene was taking place in the early part of the month of September, in 1849, at the convict-prison of Rochefort. The meal hour had sounded. The convicts were eating. One of the galley-slaves, attired like all the others in the regulation red vest and red cap, with the _manille_, or iron ring fastened to a heavy chain, on his feet, sat on a stone, and was biting into a chunk of black bread. The galley-slave was Marik Lebrenn. He had been sentenced to hard labor by a council of war after the June insurrection of 1848. The merchant's features preserved their usual expression of serenity and firmness. The only change in him was that his face, exposed during his arduous work to the scorching heat of the sun on the water, had acquired, one might say, the color of brick. A guard, with sword at his side and cane in hand, after having looked over several groups of convicts, stopped, as if he were in search of someone, and then, pointing with his cane in the direction of Marik Lebrenn, called out: "Halloa, down there--number eleven hundred and twenty!" The merchant continued to eat his black bread with a hearty appetite and did not answer.