"The old man had fallen asleep; the bright light of the moon showed Marie that his eyes were closed. In her anxious hope she went out of the tent and climbed up a tree which stood near, to gaze across that vast plain; but nothing appeared. She then determined to descend, and baptize her grandfather herself as soon as he awoke. One last yearning look, however, brought before her something which made her heart throb almost aloud. It was but a small spot; but it seemed to move, and to draw nearer to her. At last she could see that it was a man on horseback. There was no Arab dress; it must be, it was Père de la Roche! She almost sprang from the tree, and ran towards him.
"Père de la Roche and Marie hastened to the tent, and Marie went in to announce the glad tidings. The old man was lying with his eyes wide open, and looked at Marie fondly and sadly as she entered; but when she told him that Père de la Roche had arrived, his countenance lit up, and he exclaimed, 'Then thou art happy. I can now die in peace, and thou wilt go back to those whom thou lovest! But go, child, and send him to me quickly, for my course is nearly run.' Marie went out and led Père de la Roche into the tent. She left him there, and waited without for him.
"She was roused by the good father, whose hand lightly shook her. 'Come, my child,' said he; 'thy grandfather would see thee again before he dies. He is now a Christian, and will be with his God before many minutes have passed. Ah! what a great work thy faith has wrought!'
"Hardly were Ben Arbi's eyes closed in his happy death, when the sound of horses caused Marie once more to tremble. Père de la Roche reassured her by saying that it was probably a detachment of cavalry from Algiers, sent to guard their safe return. Taking her by the hand, he led her out of the tent, and there she saw again the beloved French uniforms. This second shock of joy, and the death scene she had just witnessed, were too much for her. She sank down quite overcome; and they laid her upon the long grass, where they left her to slumber, whilst they hurriedly performed the last rites to Ben Arbi.
"When all was done, they gently awoke her; and placing her on horseback, they returned to Algiers. Poor Marie was carried exhausted into the convent just as the bell was tolling for matins. The nuns came gathering round their lost child, now restored to them, to their great joy."
[CHAPTER VI.]
The Adairs were doubly anxious to know Marie and to have her with them, after reading the papers which Madame Hird had given them; moreover, she would, they thought, so well supply Lucy's place, and be a companion to Flora.
Accordingly, when the day arrived which had been fixed for Lucy's departure, and they had confided her to the care of the friends with whom she was to travel to England, they determined to drive straight to the convent. They got into an open carriage, but the driver looked wonders when he was told that their destination was the Villa Ianthe, on the Lungara—a long distance indeed from the Piazza dei Termini. He tried to console himself, however, by driving as slowly as possible, being too truly Italian to trouble himself as to whether, in so doing, he lost other fares or not. What true Italian does not prefer the dolce far niente to gain? Fortunately it was a matter of indifference to the Adairs; they were not pressed for time, and that slow motion through the soft, hazy air of Rome was far from disagreeable, so they let him gang his ain gate.