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Updated: June 25, 2025
He will be re-born still happier, still juster, still braver, and ever onward, from world to world, Julyan will be re-born, his soul being ever re-incarnated in a new body the same as the body that here puts on new clothes." "Oh, Gauls! Ye proud souls, to whom death does not exist! Come, come! Remove your eyes from this earth; rise to the sublimity of heaven.
He still inhabited his hut, now shared with him by his son Den-Brao and the latter's wife Gervaise, together with their three children, of whom the eldest, Nominoe, was nine, the second, Julyan, seven, and the youngest, Jeannette, two years of age. Den-Brao, a serf like his father, was since his youth employed in a neighboring stone quarry. A natural taste for masonry developed itself in the lad.
After Armel was dead, Joel closed the youth's eyes and had him taken to the altar of grey stones, above which stood the copper bowl with the seven twigs of mistletoe. The body was then covered with oak branches taken from the altar, so that, instead of the corpse, only a heap of verdure met the eye, with Julyan seated close to it.
"It is Armel; I killed him this evening in a sword contest," answered Julyan; "but as we have both pledged brotherhood to each other, I shall join him to-morrow beyond. If you wish it I shall mention you to him." "Yes, yes. Julyan; I loved Armel and expected to find him alive.
"I shall give them, Mamm' Margarid, the kiss of remembrance and hope in your name," answered Armel in a fainting voice, and added again in a pet, "and yet I would so much have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!" These words seemed deeply to affect Julyan, who still holding his friend's head looked down upon him with sadness.
The wounded youth seemed the most pleased of all, and with his last breath said: "So long, then, brother Julyan ... listen attentively ... to the stories.... And now ... farewell ... farewell ... to all of you of our tribe," and Armel sought to suit the motion of his hands to his words.
And all the tribes, feeling the thrill of curiosity of death and certain that they all would eventually become acquainted with the marvels of the other worlds, repeated with their thousands of voices: "Happy Julyan! Happy Julyan!"
He killed Armel not in hate but in a contest, in loyal combat, buckler on arm, sword in hand, like a true Breton Gaul, who loves to display his bravery and does not fear death. Armel having departed, Julyan, who had pledged brotherhood to him, wishes to depart also and join his friend. Glory to Julyan, faithful to the teachings of the druids.
The narrative of my father, Yvon the Forester, breaks off here. He could not finish it. He was soon after taken sick and died. Before expiring he made to me the following confession which he desired inserted in the family's annals: "I have a horrible confession to make. Near by the grave to which I took the body of Julyan, lay a large heap of wood that was to be reduced to coal by the woodsmen.
In their midst was Julyan, happy and proud; Julyan who was glad to leave this world in order to rejoin his friend Armel, and journey in his company over the unknown worlds.
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