Guerande
still treasures the memory of that siege.
We must admit that the Baron du Guenic was illiterate as a peasant. He
could read, write, and do some little ciphering; he knew the military
art and heraldry, but, excepting always his prayer-book, he had not
read three volumes in the course of his life. His clothing, which is
not an insignificant point, was invariably the same; it consisted of
stout shoes, ribbed stockings, breeches of greenish velveteen, a cloth
waistcoat, and a loose coat with a collar, from which hung the cross
of Saint-Louis. A noble serenity now reigned upon that face where, for
the last year or so, sleep, the forerunner of death, seemed to be
preparing him for rest eternal. This constant somnolence, becoming
daily more and more frequent, did not alarm either his wife, his blind
sister, or his friends, whose medical knowledge was of the slightest.
To them these solemn pauses of a life without reproach, but very
weary, were naturally explained: the baron had done his duty, that was
all.
In this ancient mansion the absorbing interests were the fortunes of
the dispossessed Elder branch.
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