assisted, had these venerable portraits taken some night a fancy to
descend from their frames to execute a dance such as Hoffmann dreamed.

These two persons were the alpha and the omega of this genealogical tree,
the two extreme links of the chain-one, the root buried in the sands of
time; the other, the branch which had blossomed at the top. Fate had
created a tragical resemblance between these two lives, separated by more
than five centuries. The chevalier in coat-of-mail had been killed in
the battle of the Mansourah during the first crusade of St. Louis. The
young man with the supercilious smile had mounted the scaffold during the
Reign of Terror, holding between his lips a rose, his usual decoration
for his coat. The history of the French nobility was embodied in these
two men, born in blood, who had died in blood.

Large gilded frames of Gothic style surrounded all these portraits. At
the right, on the bottom of each picture was painted a little escutcheon
having for its crest a baronial coronet and for supports two wild men
armed with clubs. The field was red; with its three bulls' heads in
silver, it announced to people well versed in heraldic art that they had
before them the lineaments of noble and powerful lords, squires of
Reisnach-Bergenheim, lords of Reisnach in Suabia, barons of the Holy
Empire, lords of Sapois, Labresse, Gerbamont, etc., counts of Bergenheim,
the latter title granted them by Louis XV, chevaliers of Lorraine, etc.,
etc., etc.

This ostentatious enumeration was not needed in order to recognize the
kindred of all these noble personages. Had they been mingled with other
portraits, a careful observer would have promptly distinguished and
reunited them, so pronounced were the family features common to them all.
The furniture of the room was not unworthy of these proud defunct ones.