Эжен Сю
The Pocket Bible; or, Christian the Printer: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century
CHAPTER XVI.
THE TAVERN OF THE BLACK GRAPE
"The Black Grape" was the device roughly painted on the escutcheon of a tavern that served for rendezvous to all sorts of bandits, who at that season infested the city of Paris. Even the archers of the patrol held in awe the semi-underground cut-throats' resort. They never ventured into the tortuous and dark alley at about the middle of which the old sign of the Black Grape, well known by all the thieves, creaked and swung to the wind. Three men, seated at a table in one of the nooks of that haunt, were discussing some important project, judging from the mystery in which they wrapped their conversation. Pichrocholle, the Mauvais-Garçon, and his pal Grippe-Minaud, the Tire-Laine, who, several months before, had attended the sale of indulgences in St. Dominic's Church, were two of the interlocutors in the consultation they were for some time holding with Josephin, the Franc-Taupin. Strange transformation! The adventurer, once a man of imperturbable good nature, was unrecognizable. His now somber and even savage physiognomy revealed a rooted grief. He left his pot of wine untouched. What stronger evidence of his grief!
"St. Cadouin!" said Pichrocholle with a tone and gesture of devout invocation. "We are here alone. You can now tell us what you want of us, Josephin."
"Pichrocholle, I met you in the war – "
"Yes, I was an arquebusier in the company of Monsieur Monluc. I got tired of killing in battle, and without profit to myself, Italians, Spaniards, Swiss and Flemings, whom I did not know, and decided to kill for cash Frenchmen whom I did know. I became a Mauvais-Garçon. I now place my dagger and my sword at the service of whoever pays me. Tit for tat."
"’Tis but to be a soldier, only in another manner," explained Grippe-Minaud. "But this trade requires a certain courage that I do not possess. I prefer to tackle honest bourgeois on their way home at night without any other weapon than – their lanthorns."
"Pichrocholle," proceeded the Franc-Taupin, "I saved your life at the battle of Marignan. I extricated you from two lansquenets, who, but for my help, would have put you through a disagreeable quarter of an hour. I believe I bore myself as a true comrade."
"St. Cadouin! Do you take me for an ingrate? If you have any service to ask of me, speak freely without fear of a refusal."
"When I ran across you a few minutes ago, it occurred to me you were the man I needed – "
"Is it some enemy you wish to rid yourself of? All you have to do is to place me before him."
Josephin shook his head negatively, and pointed with his finger at his own long sword, that lay across the table before him. It would have been quite enough for such a contingency.
"You are yourself able to rid yourself of an enemy," replied the Mauvais-Garçon. "I know it. What, then, is the job?"
The Franc-Taupin proceeded with a tremulous voice while a tear rolled down from his eye:
"Pichrocholle, I had a sister – "
"How your voice trembles! You could not look any sadder. Pichrocholle, the pots are empty, and no money to fill them with!" said Grippe-Minaud.
"'Sdeath, my sister!" cried the Franc-Taupin in despair. "There is a void in my heart that nothing can fill!" and he hid his face in his hands.
"A void is useful when it is made in the purse of a bourgeois," commented Grippe-Minaud, while his companion remarked:
"Come, now, Josephin, you had a sister. Is it that you have lost her? Proceed with your story."
"She is dead!" murmured the Franc-Taupin, gulping down a sob; but recovering, he added: "I still have a niece – "
"A niece?" asked the Mauvais-Garçon. "Is it she we must help? Is she young and handsome – ?"
The bandit stopped short at the fierce look that the Franc-Taupin shot at him. Presently he resumed:
"I knew you one time for a jollier fellow."
"I laugh no more," rejoined the Franc-Taupin with a sinister smile. "My cheerfulness is gone! But let us come to the point. My sister died in prison. I succeeded at least in being allowed to see her before she closed her eyes, and to receive her last wishes. She leaves behind three children – a girl and two boys, but the elder does not count."
"How's that? Explain the mystery."
"I am coming to that. My sister's daughter was seized and taken to the convent of the Augustinian sisters, where she is now detained."
"St. Cadouin! What is there to complain about? To have a niece in a convent, is almost like having an angel on your side in paradise!" Saying which the Mauvais-Garçon crossed himself devoutly by carrying his thumb from his nose to his chin, and then across from one corner to the other of his mouth.
"Oh!" exclaimed Grippe-Minaud, "And I have neither sister, daughter nor niece in a convent! They would pray for the remission of my sins. I could then be unconcerned for the hereafter, like a fish in the water!"
"And their prayers would not cost you a denier!" added Pichrocholle with a sigh.
"Oh, if only my daughter Mariotte had not run away at the age of fourteen with a jail-bird, she would now be in a convent, praying for her good father, the Tire-Laine! By the confession! That was the dream of my life," whereupon the thief crossed himself as the Mauvais-Garçon had done.
The words of the two bandits suited the Franc-Taupin. They were fresh proofs of the mixture of superstition and crime that marked the bandits' lives. Their fanaticism squared with his own projects. He proceeded with his story, to which his two comrades listened attentively:
"My niece has no religious vocation. She was taken to the convent, and is held there by force. She must come out. Will you help me to carry her off?'
"St. Cadouin!" cried the Mauvais-Garçon, terror stricken, and crossing himself anew. "That would be sacrilege!"
"To violate a holy place!" came from Grippe-Minaud, who grew pale and crossed himself like Pichrocholle. "By the confession! My hair stands on end at the bare thought of such a thing!"
Dumb and stupefied, the two brigands looked at each other with dilated eyes. The Franc-Taupin seemed in no wise disconcerted by their scruples. After a moment of silence he proceeded:
"Mauvais-Garçons and Tire-Laines are good Catholics, I know. Therefore, be easy, my devout friends, I have the power to absolve you."
"Are you going to make us believe you are an Apostolic Commissioner?"
"What does it matter, provided I guarantee to you a plenary indulgence? Eh, comrades!"
"You – you – Josephin? You are mocking us! And yet you claim you have lost your taste for mirth!"
Separated from the two thieves by the full length of the table, the Franc-Taupin placed his sword between his legs, planted his bare dagger close before him, and then drew a parchment out of the pocket of his spacious hose. It was Hervé's letter of absolution, which the Franc-Taupin had picked up from the threshold of his sister's house when the Lebrenn family was arrested. He unfolded the apostolic schedule; and holding it open in plain view of both the brigands, he said to them:
"Look and read – you can read."
"A letter of absolution!" exclaimed the Mauvais-Garçon and the Tire-Laine, with eyes that glistened with greed as they carefully ran over the parchment. "It bears the seals, the signatures – there is nothing lacking!"
"I saw day before yesterday a schedule like that in the hands of the Count of St. Mexin, who paid me two ducats to dispatch a certain fat advocate, a husband who stands in the way of the love affairs of the advocatess with the young seigneur," said the Mauvais-Garçon.
"By the confession!" cried Grippe-Minaud, re-crossing himself. "The letter is complete! It gives remission even for reserved cases. Thanks to this absolution, one can do anything! Anything, without danger to his soul!"
After reading and contemplating with ecstasies the apostolic schedule, the two bandits exchanged a rapid and meaning look, which, however, did not escape the Franc-Taupin, thoroughly on his guard as he was. He drew back quickly, rose from his seat, dashed the precious parchment back into his pocket, took a few steps away from the table, and standing erect, his right foot forward, his sword in one hand, his dagger in the other, thus addressed the two desperadoes:
"By the bowels of St. Quenet, my lads! I knew you for too good a brace of Catholics not to wish to stab me to death in order to get possession of this absolving schedule, which remits all past, present and future crimes. Come on, my dare-devils, I have only one eye left, but it is a good one!"
"You are crazy! It is not right to mistrust an old friend that way," expostulated Pichrocholle. "You misunderstood our intentions."
"We only wanted to examine more closely that blessed and priceless letter," added the Tire-Laine. "By the confession! Happy man that you are to possess such a treasure!" and he crossed himself. "Saints of paradise, but grant me such a windfall, and I shall burn twenty wax candles come Candlemas!"
"It depends upon you whether you shall own this treasure or not," proceeded the adventurer. "I shall give you this letter of absolution, if you help me, to-night, to carry off my niece from the convent of the Augustinian sisters. By virtue of this apostolic schedule, you will be absolved of all your sins – past, present and future, and of this night's sacrilege for good measure. Thenceforth, you will be privileged fairly to swim in crime, without concern for your souls, as Pichrocholle just said. Paradise will then be guaranteed to you!"
"But," remarked the Mauvais-Garçon, shaking his head, "this letter absolves only one Christian – we are two."
"The job being done, you will cast dice for the schedule," Josephin answered readily. "There will be one to lose and one to gain. The chances are equal for you both."
The two bandits consulted each other with their eyes. Pichrocholle spoke up:
"But how do you come into possession of that letter? Those absolutions are the most expensive. St. Cadouin! The least that they cost, I hear, is twenty-five gold crowns."
"It is none of your business from whom I hold the schedule. 'Sdeath, my sister! All the gold in the world will not pay for the tears that piece of parchment has caused to flow!" answered the Franc-Taupin, whose visage expressed a profound grief as he thought of the revelations Bridget made to him about Hervé.
Recovering his composure the adventurer added:
"Will you, yes or no, both of you, lend me a strong hand to-night, in order to carry off my niece from the convent of the Augustinian sisters, and for another expedition? It is a double game we have to play."
"St. Cadouin! We are to make two strokes. You never told us about that – "
"The second expedition is but child's play. To seize a little casket."
"What does the casket contain?" queried the Tire-Laine, all interest.
"Only papers," answered the Franc-Taupin, "besides a few trinkets of no value. Moreover, seeing you are scrupulous Catholics, I shall add, for the sake of the peace of your souls, that the casket which I wish to recover, was stolen from my brother-in-law. You will be aiding a restitution."
"Josephin, you are trying to deceive us!" remarked the Mauvais-Garçon. "People do not attach so much importance to a bunch of papers and worthless trinkets."
"When the casket is in our possession you may open it – if there be any valuables in it, they shall be yours."
"There is nothing to say to that," rejoined Pichrocholle, looking at the Tire-Laine. "That's fair, eh? We shall accept the proposition."
"Quite fair," returned the latter. "But let us proceed in order. The abduction of the nun – by the navel of the Pope! I shiver at the bare thought. Should the cast of the dice not give me the letter of absolution, I remain guilty of a sacrilege!"
"That is your risk," answered the Franc-Taupin; "but if you gain the indulgence – there you are, my Catholic brother, safe for all eternity, whatever crimes you may commit."
"By the limbs of Satan! I know that well enough! It is that very thing that lures me."
"And me too," put in the other brigand. "But how are we to manage things in order to enter the convent?"
"I shall explain my plan to you. My brother-in-law is in hiding for fear of being arrested. My niece, who was taken to the Augustinian Convent, was compelled to take the vows to-day."
"How do you know that?"
"I had gone, as latterly I often get into the humor of doing, and planted myself before my sister's house – and dreamed."
"To what end?"
"In order to contemplate that poor house, deserted to-day, and where, every time I returned from the country, Bridget, her husband and her children gave me a pleasant reception. You devout fellows talk of paradise. That house was a paradise to me. So that, even to-day, I roamed into the neighborhood as an erring soul, my eyes fastened upon that closed window where I had so often seen the dear faces of my sister and her daughter smiling upon me when I knocked at their door – "
The expression on the face, the tone of the voice of the Franc-Taupin, touched even the two bandits, hardened men though they were. Josephin smothered a sob and proceeded:
"As I was saying a short while ago, I was roaming around the house when I saw a monk approaching me. Oh, a good monk! So pale, so worn that I had trouble to recognize him. But he, although he had met me only once, recognized me by my port and by the plaster on my eye. He asked me whether he could have a speedy word with my sister, or my brother-in-law. 'My sister is dead, and my brother-in-law is in hiding,' I answered the monk. He thereupon informed me that my niece was locked up in the convent of the Augustinian sisters, where he, an Augustinian monk, was her confessor; that, himself subjected several months to a rigorous sequestration, he had only just succeeded in coming out, seeing that the surveillance under which he was held had somewhat begun to relax. Poor monk, he looked so wan, so emaciated, so feeble that he could hardly keep himself on his feet. Uninformed concerning the misfortunes of our family, his errand was to impart to the parents of my niece what he knew about her. He ran the risk, in the event of his outing being discovered, of being pursued and punished. I took him to the place where my brother-in-law has found a safe retreat. On the way thither I learned the following from the monk: My niece took the veil to-day. According to the custom in such cases, she is to pass the night alone in prayer in the oratory of the Virgin, which is separated from the church of the convent by an enclosure of the cloister. Now, attention, my lads, to the directions that the monk gave me. The walls of the court-yard of the chapel run along St. Benoit's Alley. Just before sunset, I went over the place and examined the walls. They are not very high. We can easily scale them, while one of us will keep watch on the outside."
"That shall be I!" broke in Grippe-Minaud nervously. "That post for me! I have the eye of a lynx and the ear of a mole!"
"You shall be the watcher. Pichrocholle and I shall scale the wall. The monk will be waiting for me near the chapel, ready to aid us should anyone attempt to oppose my niece's abduction. I shall find her in the oratory; she will follow me; we shall force open one of the garden gates; and before dawn I shall have the daughter with her father, who is in perfect safety. Immediately after, it will then be just early dawn, we shall undertake the second expedition."
"The casket that we are to take?"
"Nothing easier. We shall go, all three, to Montaigu College, and shall ask the porter for the number of Abbot Lefevre's chamber. He is the thief of the casket."
"Horns of Moses!" cried Grippe-Minaud crossing himself. "An Abbot! To raise our hands against another anointed of the Lord!"
"Two sacrileges in one day!" added the Mauvais-Garçon shaking his head thoughtfully. "That weighs heavy on one's conscience."
"What about the letter of absolution!" interjected the Franc-Taupin impatiently. "By the devil, whose frying pan you are afraid of, my precious Catholics! Have you faith – yes or no?"
"That's so," responded Pichrocholle, "there is the schedule of absolution. It covers us! Thanks to its beneficent virtue, one of us shall be white as the inside of a snowball."
"Accordingly," the Franc-Taupin proceeded, "we shall ask for Abbot Lefevre, under the pretext of some urgent matter that we must communicate to him; we go up to his room; we knock at the door. Our man will still be in bed. We throw ourselves upon him. You two bind and gag him. I shall look for the casket in question – and shall find it. I am certain of that. We then tie our Abbot to the bed, keeping him gagged all the while, lest he scream and give the alarm. We close the door after us – and we make tracks for the nearest place of safety."
"Oh, that would be the merest child's play, provided no priest were concerned," broke in the Tire-Laine; "besides the abduction of your niece, the violation of a sanctuary!"
"Yesterday I despatched my seventh man," put in the Mauvais-Garçon. "Accordingly, my conscience is not very well at ease, because, to obtain absolution for a murder, I would have to pay more than the murder fetches me. But a lay murder is but a peccadillo beside a sacrilege! – And then, if after the expedition that you propose to us, the dice should fail to give me the apostolic schedule? What then! St. Cadouin! I would dream only of the eternal flames ever after."
"That is your risk," again replied Josephin imperturbably. "The hour approaches. Have you decided? Is it yes? Is it no? Must I look for assistance elsewhere?"
"When will you deliver the letter to us?"
"Just as soon as my niece is safely with her father, and the casket is in my hands. Agreed?"
"And if you deceive us? If after the expeditions have been successfully carried out, you refuse to deliver the letter to us?"
"By the bowels of St. Quenet! And if, taking advantage of a moment when I may not be on my guard, you should stab me to-night, that you may seize the letter before rendering me the services which I expect of you? The risks are equal, and compensate each other. Enough of words!"
"Oh, Josephin, such a suspicion against me – me your old comrade in arms!"
"By the confession! To take us – us who have drunk out of the same pot, for capable of so unworthy an action!"
"God's blood! Night draws near. We shall need some time to prepare for the escalade," ejaculated the Franc-Taupin. "For the last time – yes or no?"
The two bandits consulted each other for a moment with their eyes. At the end of the consultation Pichrocholle reached out his hand to the Franc-Taupin, saying:
"Upon the word of a Mauvais-Garçon, and by the salvation of my soul – 'tis done! You can count with me to the death."
"Upon the word of a Tire-Laine, and by the salvation of my soul – 'tis done! You may dispose of me."
"To work!" ordered the Franc-Taupin.
Josephin left the tavern of the Black Grape accompanied by the two bandits.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE COTTAGE OF ROBERT ESTIENNE
The cottage or country-house, that Robert Estienne owned near St. Ouen, on the St. Denis road, was located in a secluded spot, and at a considerable distance from the village. The byroad which led to the entrance of the residence ran upon a gate of grated iron near a little lodge occupied by the gardener and his wife. The principal dwelling rose in the center of a garden enclosed by a wall. The day after that on which the Franc-Taupin, the Mauvais-Garçon and the Tire-Laine held their conference at the tavern of the Black Grape, Michael, Robert Estienne's gardener, having returned from the field late in the afternoon, and being not a little out of sorts at not finding his wife Alison at their home, the key of which she had carried away with her, was grumbling, storming and blowing upon his fingers numb with the December chill. Finally his wife, no doubt returning from the village, hove in sight, and wended her way towards the gate.
"Where the devil did you go to?" Michael called out to Alison as he saw her from a distance. "Could you not at least have left the key in the door? The devil take those forgetful women!"
"I went – to confession," answered the gardener's wife avoiding her husband's eyes, and pushing open the gate. "I took the key with me because you were afield."
"To confession! – To confession!" replied Michael with a growl. "And I was freezing to death."
"All the same I must see to my salvation. You sent me this morning with a letter to our master. The curate was good enough to wait for me at the confessional after dinner. I availed myself of his kindness."
"Very well. But, may the devil take it! I wish you would try to gain paradise without exposing me to be frozen to death."
The couple had barely stepped into the lodge when Michael stopped to listen in the direction of the gate and said, surprisedly:
"I hear the gallop of a horse!"
The brave Michael stepped out again, looked through the grating of the gate, recognized Robert Estienne, and called out:
"Alison, come quick; it is our master!"
Saying this the gardener threw open the gate to Robert Estienne. The latter alighted from his horse, and giving the reins to his servant said:
"Good evening, Michael. Any news?"
"Oh, monsieur, many things – "
"Does my guest run any danger? Has any indiscretion been committed?"
"No, thanks to God, monsieur. You may be easy on that score. You can rely upon my wife as upon myself. No one suspects at the village that there is anyone hiding at the house."
"What, then, has happened, since my last call? Alison brought me this morning a note from the friend to whom I am giving asylum. But although the note urged my coming here, it indicated nothing serious."
"No doubt the person who is here, monsieur, reserves for his own telling the news that he is no longer alone at the house."
"How is that?"
"Day before yesterday, the tall one-eyed fellow who comes here from time to time, and always at night, called in broad daylight, mounted upon a little cart, drawn by a donkey and filled with straw. He told me to watch the cart, and he went in search of your guest. The two came out together, and out of the straw in the cart they pulled – a monk!"
"A monk, say you! – A monk!"
"Yes, monsieur, a young monk of the Order of Saint Augustine, who looked as if he had not another hour to live, so pale and weak was he."
"And what has become of him?"
"He remained here, and your guest said to me: 'Michael, I beg you to keep the arrival of the monk an absolute secret. I shall inform Monsieur Estienne of the occurrence. Your master will approve the measures I have taken.'"
"Did you follow his recommendation?"
"Yes, monsieur, but that is not all. Last night the big one-eyed fellow came back just before dawn. He was on horseback, and behind him, wrapped in a cloak on the crupper of his mount, he brought – a nun! I went immediately to notify your guest. He came out running, and almost fainted away at the sight of the nun. Bathed in tears he returned with her into the house, while the big one-eyed man rode off at a gallop. It was daylight by that time. Finally, towards noon to-day, the big one-eyed man returned once more, but this time clad in a peasant's blouse and cap. He brought a little casket to your guest, and then went off – "
Astounded at what the gardener was telling him, Robert Estienne walked up to the house, where he rapped in the nature of a signal – two short raps and then, after a short pause, a third. Instantly Christian opened the door.
"My friend, what is the matter? What has happened?" cried Robert Estienne, struck by the profound change in the appearance of the artisan, who threw himself into the arms of his patron, murmuring between half-smothered sobs:
"My daughter! – My daughter!"
Robert Estienne returned Christian's convulsive embrace, and under the impression that some irreparable misfortune had happened, he said in sympathetic accents:
"Courage, my friend! Courage!"
"She has been found!" cried Christian. The light of unspeakable joy shone in his eyes. "My child has been restored to me! She is here! She is with me!"
"True?" asked Robert Estienne, and recalling the gardener's words he added: "Was she the nun?"
"It is Hena herself! But come, come, monsieur; my heart overflows with joy. My head swims. Oh, never have I needed your wise counsel as much as now! What am I now to do?"
Christian and his patron had all this while remained at the entrance of the vestibule. They walked into a contiguous apartment.
"For heaven's sake, my dear Christian, be calm," remarked Robert Estienne. "Let me know what has happened. Needless to add that my advice and friendship are at your service."
Recovering his composure, and wiping with the back of his hand the tears that inundated his face, the artisan proceeded to explain:
"You are aware of the arrest of my wife, my daughter and my eldest son at our house. I would also have been arrested had I been found at home. My brother-in-law, who lingered in the neighborhood of my house, notified me of the danger I ran, and made me retrace my steps. Thanks to Josephin and yourself I found a safe refuge, first in Paris itself, and then here, in this retreat which seemed to you to offer greater security."
"Did I not by all that but repay a debt of gratitude? Your hospitality to John Calvin is probably the principal cause of the persecution that you and your family have been the victims of. Despite my pressing solicitations, Princess Marguerite, whose influence alone has hitherto protected me against my enemies, declined to attempt aught in your behalf. Cardinal Duprat said to her: 'Madam, the man in whom you are interesting yourself is one of the bitterest enemies of the King and the Church. If we succeed in laying hands upon that Christian Lebrenn he shall not escape the gallows, which he has long deserved!' Such set animosity towards you, a workingman and obscure artisan, passes my comprehension."
"I now know the cause of that bitter animosity, Monsieur Estienne. Before proceeding with my narrative, the revelation is due to you. It may have its bearings upon the advice that I expect from you."
Christian opened the casket that contained the chronicles of his family, brought to him that very noon by the Franc-Taupin. He took from the casket a scroll of paper and placed it in Robert Estienne's hand, saying:
"Kindly read this, monsieur. The manuscripts to which this note refers are the family chronicles that I have occasionally spoken of to you."
Robert Estienne took the note and read:
"IGNATIUS LOYOLA, GENERAL OF THE SOCIETY OF JESUS
"A. M. D. G
"(Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam)
"Despite the incorrectness of their style and other defects of form, the within manuscripts may, especially since the invention of the printing press, become a weapon of great mischief.
"This narrative, transmitted from century to century at the domestic hearth to obscure generations of common people could not, before the invention of the printing press, have any evil effect further than to perpetuate execrable traditions within a single family. It is so no longer. These rhapsodies are stamped with the race hatred borne by the Gauls towards the Franks, the conquered towards the conquerors, the serf towards the seigneur, the subject towards the Crown and the Church. To-day these rhapsodies could be multiplied indefinitely through the printing press, and thus diffused among the evil-minded people, ever but too prone to rebellion against the pontifical and royal authorities. Enlightened by these narratives upon historical events that should forever be a closed book to them, if they are to entertain a feeling of blind submission, a sense of respect, and a wholesome dread for the throne and the altar, the evil-minded common people would in the future engage with ever greater audacity in those revolts that not a single century has hitherto been wholly free from, – a state of things that the Society of Jesus, with the aid of God, will reduce to order.
"Therefore, it is urgent that these manuscripts be destroyed without delay, as proposed by our beloved son Lefevre, and that the traditions of the Lebrenn family be shattered by the following means:
"To cause the father and mother to be sentenced as heretics. The proofs of their heresy are plentiful. The torture and the pyre for the infamous wretches.
"To lock up in a convent the son and the daughter (Hena and Hervé) now in Paris, and compel them to take the vows.
"As to the youngest son, Odelin, fifteen years of age, and at present traveling in Italy with Master Raimbaud, an armorer, who is also reported to be a heretic, the return of the lad to Paris must be awaited, and then the identical course pursued towards him – capture him, lock him up in a convent, and compel him to take the vows. He is fifteen years old. Despite the taint of his early bringing-up, it will be easy to operate upon a child of that age. If, contrary to all likelihood, he can not be reduced to reason, he shall be kept in the convent until eighteen. Then he shall be pronounced guilty of heresy, and burned alive.
"I insist– it is important, not only to destroy the said manuscripts, but also to shatter the traditions of the Lebrenn family, and extinguish the same, either by delivering it to the secular arm on crimes of heresy, or by burying its last scions forever in the shadow of the cloister.
"The fact must be kept well in mind – there is no such thing as small enemies. The slightest of causes often produces great effects. At a given moment, on the occasion of a rebellion, one resolute man may be enough to carry the populace with him. Due to its secular traditions, the Lebrenn family might produce such a man. Such an eventuality must be prevented; the family must be uprooted.
"If, supposing the impossible, the measures herein indicated should fail of success, if this dangerous stock should perpetuate itself, then, it is necessary that our ORDER, equally perpetual, always keep its eye upon these Lebrenns, who are certain to generate infamous scoundrels.
