At length came the day of deliverance.
It was a day in early April. The east winds of March had dried the earth, the sun had now some power, and the trees were bursting into leaf in every direction. It was one of those first days of early summer, which are so delicious from their rarity, and seem to render this earth a paradise for the time being.
The convalescent was out of doors, inhaling the sweet breeze, in the immediate proximity of the hut, when the good father appeared.
"My son," he said, "dost thou feel strong enough to travel?"
"I do, indeed, father," said the youth, his heart bounding with delight; "but may I go, and without any ransom?"
"Surely; we have not preserved thy life from love of filthy lucre."
"I feel that father, in my very heart; but hast thou no pledge to demand? Dost thou trust all to my gratitude?"
"Thou wilt never fight against the poor fugitives here, my son?"
"Nor betray the path to their retreat" added Etienne.
"That is already known," said the father.