"You see I was right, your son's heart remained true," said Septimine to Rosen-Aër with touching kindness.
"Septimine!" replied Amael with a look of tenderness, "would you doubt my heart in the future?"
"No, Amael," she answered naïvely, looking at the young man with an expression of timidity and surprise. "I shall never doubt you."
"Mother, this sweet and brave girl saved your life; she is now a fugitive, forever separated from her family. If she should consent to give me her hand, would you accept her as a daughter?"
"Oh, with joy! With thankfulness!" said Rosen-Aër. "But would you consent to the union, Septimine?"
Blushing with surprise, with happiness and confusion, the girl threw herself on the neck of Amael's mother, and holding her face on the matron's breast, murmured:
"I loved him since the day he showed himself so generous toward me at the convent of St. Saturnine. Did he not there protect me?"
"Oh, Rosen-Aër!" now exclaimed the old man who had stood near wrapped in thought, "the gods have blessed my old age, seeing they reserved such a day for me." And after a few seconds of silent emotion, shared in by the young apprentices, the old man proceeded, saying: "My friends, if you will take my advice, let us resume our march. We shall have to walk briskly in order to arrive to-morrow evening at the frontier of Armorica."
"Mother," said Amael, "lean upon me; you will not now refuse the support of my arm?"
"No, oh, no! my child!" answered the matron with tenderness, and brimful of happiness, taking her son's arm.