“He comes to save you; he is not the same man; he has become good. Do you hear him ask your forgiveness?” whispered the dame in the ear of Lucy.
“Could any one say more? Come, lift up your head; do not play the child. We can go away now, immediately,” said Don Abbondio.
Lucy raised her head, looked at the Unknown, and beholding his humble and downcast expression, she was affected with a mingled feeling of gratitude and pity: “Oh! my lord! may God reward you for your compassion to an unfortunate girl!” cried she; “and may he recompense you a hundred-fold for the consolation you afford me by these words!” So saying, he advanced towards the door, and went out, followed by Lucy; who, quite encouraged, was supported by the arm of the good lady, Don Abbondio bringing up the rear. They descended the stairs, passed through the courts, and reached the litter; into which, the Unknown with almost timid politeness (a new thing for him!) assisted Lucy and her new companion to enter. He then aided Don Abbondio to reseat himself in the saddle. “Oh! what complaisance!” said the latter, moving much more lightly than he had done on first mounting.
The convoy resumed their way; as soon as the Unknown was mounted, his head was raised, and his countenance resumed its accustomed expression of command and authority. The robbers whom they met on their road discovered in it marks of strong thought and extraordinary solicitude; but they did not, they could not, comprehend the cause. They knew nothing as yet of the great change which had taken place in the soul of the man, and certainly such a conjecture would not have entered into their minds.
The good dame hastened to draw the curtains around the litter; pressing the hands of Lucy affectionately, she endeavoured to encourage her by words of piety, congratulation, and tenderness. Seeing, however, that besides the exhaustion from so much suffering, the confusion and obscurity of all that had happened prevented the poor girl from being alive to the satisfaction of her deliverance; she said what she thought would be most likely to restore her thoughts to their ordinary course. She mentioned the village to which she belonged, and towards which they were hastening.
“Yes, indeed!” said Lucy, remembering that this village was but a short distance from her own. “Oh! holy Virgin! I render thee thanks. My mother! my mother!”
“We will send for her immediately,” said her friend, not knowing that it had already been done.
“Yes, yes; God will reward you. And you,—who are you? How is it that you have come here?”
“Our curate sent me, because this lord, whose heart God has touched, (blessed be his holy name!) came to our village to see the cardinal archbishop, who is visiting among us, the dear man of God! This lord has repented of his horrible sins, and wishes to change his life; and he told the cardinal that he had carried off an innocent girl, with the connivance of another, whose name the curate did not mention to me.”
Lucy raised her eyes to heaven.