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Updated: May 3, 2025
Vindex! and so many other heroes of Gaul, were they not all sons of Auvergne? of the beautiful Auvergne, to-day the prey of Clotaire, the most odious, the most ferocious of the four sons of Clovis? Other voices answered in chorus to the song of Ronan the Vagre.
I thought of the brave Captain Wells, with his swarthy face, and Indian training, who had proved himself so truly my friend for my father's sake; of Captain Heald, the typical bluff soldier of the border, ready to sacrifice everything to what he deemed his duty; of Lieutenant Helm, grave of face and calm of speech, always so thoughtful of his sweet girl bride; and of young Ronan, loyal of heart and impetuous of deed, whose frank manliness had so drawn me to him.
He deposited all these articles near the poniard of Loysik. Kervan also produced from the little coffer the several family parchments, ranked them in order before Ronan, and then rejoined his family. That long winter's night was spent by the Vagre reading the legends of his family. On their part, Kervan, his wife and sister prolonged their reading until it was almost dawn.
"That man is insane!" the professor whispered to the German scientist. "Let me deal with him." "Do something quickly," pleaded Mr. Roumann, "or he will damage the projectile." "This is the way I work!" cried the insane man, and he brought down the hammer with great force on the rounded sides of the Annihilator. He made quite a dent in it. "Stop him!" begged Mr. Ronan.
"The compliment is as sweet to me as to you, my daughter," answered Mamm' Margarid; saying which she began her story: "My grandmother's name was Syomara; she was the daughter of Ronan. Her father had taken her into lower Languedoc whither his traffic called him. The Gauls of the neighborhood were just preparing for the expedition to the East.
I, Kervan, the son of Jocelyn, who died seven years after he bequeathed to me our family archives have this to add: The narrative that follows was brought to me here, at my house, near Karnak, by Ronan, one of the sons of my brother Karadeucq, who left our house to run the Bagaudy, the year after the death of Clovis.
I thought of my father Jocelyn, of my mother Madalen both no doubt dead in the country that I ran away from more than forty years ago, and where my brother Kervan and my dear sweet sister Roselyk still live. At these thoughts tears came to my eyes despite myself. Oh, my sons! Ronan! Loysik! here I am near to you, but shall I manage your delivery! Hesus! Hesus! inspire me."
So accurate was the aim of the archers that every arrow found its quiver in the flesh of a foe. "This is for you, Neroweg!" cried Ronan from the branch on which he was perched. "This is for you, the descendant of the Terrible Eagle! There goes the Vagre's arrow!" Unfortunately the arrow's head was flattened out against the iron casque of the count.
"And the stupid Frank, imagining he sees one of the mouths of hell yawning wide, will make some generous donation to the holy man " "You guessed it, Ronan. So, then, we shall have to wait until the miracle is over. When the count is gone and the villa slumbering you and your men can come in safely." "The bishopess for me!" "To us the iron money-chest, the gold and silver vases!
It is better far that you die now, than to be burned alive to-morrow." "Poor little one, the strain of this day's experience has exhausted her strength! Look, Ronan, her face, alas! grows paler and paler." "Let us bless this pallor of death, beautiful bishopess; it announces the approach of death a death that will save the poor child the agony of the burning pyre.
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