"Number eleven hundred and twenty!" repeated the guard in a louder voice. "Don't you hear me, scamp!" Continued silence on the part of Lebrenn. Grumbling and put out at being obliged to take a few more steps, the guard approached Lebrenn at a rapid pace, and touching him with the end of his cane, addressed him roughly: "The devil! Are you deaf? Answer me, you brute!" As Lebrenn felt himself touched by the guard's cane his face lowered, but quickly suppressing the impulse to anger and indignation, he answered calmly: "What do you want?" "I called you twice--eleven hundred and twenty! And you did not answer. Do you expect to escape me in that way? Look out!" "Come, be not so brutal!" answered Lebrenn, shrugging his shoulders. "I did not answer you because I have not yet become accustomed to hearing myself called by any but my own name--and I am always forgetting that my present name is _eleven hundred and twenty_." "Enough of argumentation! Step up, and come to the Commissioner of Marine." "What for?" "None of your business. Step up! march! quick!" "I follow you," said Lebrenn with imperturbable calmness. After crossing a part of the port, the guard, followed closely by the galley-slave, arrived at the door of the Commissioner in charge of the convicts. "Will you kindly notify the Commissioner that I have brought him number eleven hundred and twenty?" said the guard to one of the keepers at the door. A minute later the keeper returned, ordered the merchant to follow him, led him down a long corridor, and opening the door of a richly furnished room, said to Lebrenn: "Walk in, and wait there." "How is that?" asked the astonished merchant. "You leave me alone?" "The Commissioner so ordered me." "The devil!" exclaimed Lebrenn smiling. "This is a mark of confidence that flatters me greatly." The keeper closed the door and left. "Once more, the devil!" said Lebrenn with a broader grin as his eyes alighted upon an inviting arm-chair. "This is a good opportunity for me to enjoy a more comfortable seat than the stone benches of the prison yard." And comfortably dropping into the soft seat he proceeded: "No question about it, a good arm-chair is one of the comforts of life." At that moment a side door opened and Lebrenn saw a tall man in the uniform of Brigadier General--blue coat, gold epaulettes and dark brown trousers--enter the apartment. At the sight of the staff officer, Lebrenn was seized with surprise, sat up straight, and cried: "Monsieur Plouernel!" "Who did not forget the evening of February 23, 1848, monsieur," answered the General, stepping forward, and cordially extending his hand to Lebrenn. The latter took the proffered hand, and, while doing so, saw and considered the meaning of the two silver stars that ornamented the Count of Plouernel's epaulettes. With a smile of good-natured irony the merchant replied: