And with the words he moved toward the window, and throwing it open, stepped out upon the spacious balcony. Here he learned speedily from the conversation of the passing crowd, that, although dreadfully shocked and startled by the first intimation of the death he was to undergo, which he received from the sight of the fatal wheel, the Lord of Kerguelen had died as becomes a proud, brave man, reconciled to the church, forgiving his enemies, without a groan or a murmur, under the protracted agonies of that most horrible of deaths, the breaking on the wheel.
Meanwhile the day passed onward, and when evening came, and the last and most social meal of the day was laid on the domestic board, young Raoul had returned from his visit to the lady of his love, full of high hopes and happy anticipations. Afterward, according to his promise, the Count de St. Renan went forth and held debate until a late hour of the night with the Sieur d'Argenson. Raoul had not retired when he came home, too restless in his youthful ardor even to think of sleep. His father brought good tidings, the father of the lady had consented, and on their arrival in Britanny the marriage contract was to be signed in form.
That was to Raoul an eventful day; and never did he forget it, or the teachings he drew from it. That day was his fate.
Thou land whose deep forest was wide as the sea, And heaved its broad ocean of green to the day, Or, waked by the tempest, in terrible glee Flung up from its billows the leaves like a spray; The swift birds of passage still spread their fleets there, Where sails the wild vulture, the pirate of air.
Thou land whose dark streams, like a hurrying horde Of wilderness steeds without rider or rein, Swept down, owning Nature alone for their lord, Their foam flowing free on the air like a mane:-- Oh grand were thy waters which spurned as they ran The curb of the rock and the fetters of man!
Thou land whose bright blossoms, like shells of the sea, Of numberless shapes and of many a shade, Begemmed thy ravines where the hidden springs be, And crowned the black hair of the dark forest maid:-- Those flowers still bloom in the depth of the wild To bind the white brow of the pioneer's child.