The lapidary, pressing his two hands on his breast, again commenced examining the individual before him from head to foot, as if determined to satisfy his mind as to her identity. His features expressed a painful uncertainty, and, instead of continuing to watch the features of his daughter, he seemed as if trying to hide himself from her sight, saying, in a low, murmuring, broken tone:
"No, no! It is a dream! Where am I? It is impossible! I dream,—it cannot be she!" Then, observing the gold strewed on the floor, he cried, "And this gold! I do not remember,—am I then awake? Oh, my head is dizzy! I dare not look,—I am ashamed! She is not my Louise!"
"Come!" cried the doctor, in a loud voice.
"Father! Dearest father!" exclaimed Louise. "Do you not know your child,—your poor Louise?" And as she said these words she threw herself on the lapidary's neck, while the doctor motioned for the rest of the group to advance.
"Gracious heavens!" exclaimed Morel, while Louise loaded him with caresses. "Where am I? What has happened to me? Who are all these persons? Oh, I cannot—dare not believe the reality of what I see!"
Then, after a short silence, he abruptly took the head of Louise between his two hands, gazed earnestly and searchingly at her for some moments, then cried, in a voice tremulous with emotion, "Louise?"
"He is saved!" said the doctor.
"My dear Morel,—my dear husband!" exclaimed the lapidary's wife, mingling her caresses with those of her daughter.
"My wife! My child and wife both here!" cried Morel.
"Pray don't overlook the rest of your friends, M. Morel," said Rigolette, advancing; "see, we have all come to visit you at once!"