"He is as learned as he is a true patriot. He is an _old Gaul_, as he loves to style himself. And sometimes," added George, unable to avoid blushing slightly, "I heard him say to his daughter, as he proudly embraced her on account of some clever answer or other that she made, "Oh, as to you--you are a true Gallic girl!""
At this moment father Morin and George heard someone rapping at the door of the first chamber.
"Walk in!" cried George.
Someone stepped into the front room that connected with the one occupied by the old man.
"Who is there?" George asked.
"I--Lebrenn," answered a voice.
"What! The worthy linendraper that we have been speaking about? The _old Gaul_?" whispered the venerable grandfather. "Go quick and see what he wants, my boy, and shut the door after you."
As much embarra.s.sed as surprised at this visit, George stepped out of his grandfather"s room, and found himself facing Marik Lebrenn.
CHAPTER III.
MARIK LEBRENN.
Marik Lebrenn was a man of about fifty years of age, although looking rather younger. His high stature; his nervy, muscular neck, arms and shoulders; the proud and resolute carriage of his head; his open and strikingly strong countenance; his sea-blue eyes with their firm and penetrating glance; his thick, heavy and light auburn hair, slightly streaked with grey and starting rather low upon a forehead that seemed to partake of the hardness of marble;--all these features betrayed the characteristic type of the Breton race, among which the Gallic tongue and blood have pre-eminently preserved themselves unalloyed down to our own days. Upon the ruddy and thick lips of Monsieur Lebrenn sat a perpetual smile that one time betokened kindheartedness, other times bore the impress of that wit and satire, which our old books term _salty_, when they describe the racy jokes, or the old Gallic character, that ever is inclined to teasing. I shall close the description of the merchant, by clothing him in a large olive overcoat and trousers of a grey material.
Astonished, almost speechless at the unexpected visit, George d.u.c.h.ene waited in silence for Lebrenn to speak. The latter said:
"Monsieur George, about six months ago you were a.s.signed by your employer to attend to some repairs in my shop. I was very much pleased with your intelligence and skill."
"You proved as much to me, monsieur, by your kindness."
"You were ent.i.tled to it. I noticed that you were industrious, and anxious to learn. I was aware, besides, as all our neighbors are, of your worthy conduct towards your grandfather, who occupies these lodgings for the last fifteen years."
"Monsieur," remarked George, not a little embarra.s.sed by these praises, "my conduct--"
"Is perfectly simple, is it not? Very well. Your job in my shop kept you three months. Very well pleased with our relations to each other, I said to you, and did so in all frankness: "Monsieur George, we are neighbors; call and see me, either Sundays, or any other day after your work hours; I shall be pleased, very pleased.""
"Indeed, monsieur, you said so."
"And yet, Monsieur George, you never set your foot in my house."
"I beg you, monsieur, do not attribute my reserve to either ingrat.i.tude or forgetfulness."
"What, then, should I attribute it to?"
"Monsieur--"
"Come, Monsieur George, be frank--you love my daughter."
The young man trembled from head to foot. His color left his cheeks, paleness and blushes alternated with each other. Finally he answered Lebrenn with a tremulous and moved voice:
"It is true, monsieur. I love mademoiselle, your daughter."
"So that, your work in my shop being done, you did not return to my house out of fear that your love might carry you away?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"And you never mentioned your love to anyone, even to my daughter?"
"Never, monsieur."
"I knew it. But why did you refuse to place confidence in me, Monsieur George?"
"Monsieur," answered the embarra.s.sed young man, "I--did--not dare--"
"Why not! Perchance because I am what is called a _bourgeois_--a rich man compared to you, who live from day to day by the wages that you earn?"
"Yes, monsieur."
After a moment"s silence the merchant proceeded:
"Permit me, Monsieur George, to put a question to you. You may answer it, if you think proper."
"I listen, monsieur."
"About fifteen months ago, shortly after your discharge from the army, you expected to marry?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"A young flower girl, an orphan named Josephine Eloi?"
"Yes, monsieur; it is all so."
"Will you tell me the reason why the marriage did not take place?"
The young man colored; an expression of pain contracted his countenance; he hesitated to answer.
Lebrenn watched him attentively. Pained and surprised at George"s silence, he could not withhold a bitter and severe cry:
"I see--seduction, then abandonment and oblivion. Your embarra.s.sment proclaims it all but too loudly."
"You are mistaken, monsieur," George quickly answered. "My embarra.s.sment and emotion are caused by cruel recollections. I shall tell you what happened. I never lie--"
"I know you do not, Monsieur George."
"Josephine dwelt in the same house with my employer. In that way I became acquainted with her. She was very pretty, and, although illiterate, highly gifted. I knew she was inured to work and poverty. I believed her wise. A bachelor"s life weighed upon me. I also thought of my grandfather. A wife would have a.s.sisted me in taking better care of him. I proposed marriage to Josephine. She seemed delighted, and she herself named the date of our wedding. They lied to you, monsieur, who spoke of seduction and abandonment!"
"I believe you," said Lebrenn, cordially extending his hand to the young man. "I am happy to be able to believe you. But how did your marriage fall through?"