"When will you go, my child?" she said.
"That must depend on her, mother."
"As soon as possible, will you not?"
"To-night, I hope."
"You will find a peasant's dress below in the carriage. Disguise yourself as best you can. It is twenty-four miles from here to Couéron. You could get there by five in the morning. Don't forget the vessel's name,--the 'Jeune Charles.'"
"Don't be anxious, mother. The moment I know my end is happiness I shall take every precaution to reach it."
"As for me, I shall go back to Paris and use all my influence to get that fatal sentence revoked. But you--I entreat you, and I repeat it--take care of your life, and remember that my life is wrapped up in yours."
Mother and son again kissed each other, and Michel took his mother to the door. Courtin, as a faithful servitor, was keeping watch below. Madame de la Logerie begged him to accompany her to the château.
When Michel, after locking the door, turned round he saw Bertha, with a smile of happiness on her lips, and a halo of love about her head. She was waiting the moment to throw herself into his arms. Michel received her in them; and if the little room had not been dark she must have seen the embarrassment on the young baron's face.
"And now," she said, "nothing can part us; we have my father's consent, and now your mother's."