the sleeve of his blouse and
pointed with his finger to two words indelibly traced on his left arm:
"_Brenn_," "_Karnak_."

Rosen-Aer remained stupified, and recovering said: "You also?... You
also.... You, good father.... Are you of the family of Joel?"

"One of my ancestors was Kervan, the uncle of Ronan. That is my
affiliation."

"Does your family live in Brittany, near Karnak?"

"My brother Allan or his children remained at the cradle of our stock."

"And how did you fall into slavery?"

"Our tribe crossed the frontier and came, according to their custom from
time immemorial, to trade arms for the vines of the Franks near the
county of Rennes. I was then fifteen, and accompanied my father on his
journey. A troop of Franks attacked us. I was separated during the fight
from my father, was captured and taken far away into bondage. Sold from
one master to another, accident brought me to this country where I am
now twelve years. Alack! Often have my eyes wandered towards the
frontier of our old Brittany, ever free! My advanced age coupled to the
habit of a profession that I love and that consoles me, have kept me
from thinking of escape. And so we are relatives!... The unhappy young
man yonder, near us, imprisoned in the cavern, is of our blood?... But
how did he become chief of this Frankish troop that the inundation has
just swallowed up?"

"I was telling this poor child that a Jew, a dealer in slaves, having
noticed these two words--'_Brenn_,' '_Karnak_'--on my arm seemed
astonished, and said to me: 'Have you not a son who must be about
twenty-five years old, and who carries like you, those two words traced
on his arm?' But despite the horror that the Jew inspired me with, his
words revived in me the hope of finding my son again. 'Yes,' I answered
him, 'ten years ago my son disappeared from the place where we lived.'
'And you lived in the valley of Charolles?' the Jew asked. 'Do you know
my son?' I cried. But the infamous man refused to answer me, and he
walked away casting a cruel look upon me."

"And you have seen him since?" asked Septimine.

"Never again. The carts resumed their march to this country, where I
arrived with my fellow female slaves. All the women must have perished
this morning ... and without the efforts of this brave girl I would have
perished also."

"The Jew Mordecai," replied the goldsmith reflecting, "that dealer in
the flesh of Gauls, a great friend of the intendant Ricarik, arriv