A moment of silence succeeded this outburst of sentiment, as David and Frederick held each other in close embrace.
The preceptor was the first to speak.
"Now, my dear child, I must appeal to your candour on a last and important matter. It may be severe, even relentless to me, but not unjust. Tell me, if—"
David could not finish. Entirely absorbed in their conversation, the preceptor and his pupil had not noticed the route, until the cart suddenly stopped a short distance from the farm gate.
Marie Bastien, greatly distressed at the prolonged absence of her son, had been standing long under the rustic porch of her house, eagerly looking for his return.
At the sight of the covered cart, as it approached the farm, an inexplicable presentiment told the young woman that her son was there. Then, divided between fear and joy, she ran to meet the cart, and exclaimed:
"Frederick, is it you?"
David was interrupted in his remarks, and the cart stopped.
With one bound, the son of Madame Bastien leaped from the cart, threw himself on his mother's neck, covered it with kisses and tears, as he cried, with a voice broken by sobs:
"Mother, saved! No more trouble! saved, mother, saved!"