“Do you know why it was, Magdalen?” cried the smith, interrupting Adrienne. “It was only another proof of the lady’s delicate generosity. ‘I long hesitate to confide to you this secret,’ said she to me this morning, ‘but I have at length made up my mind to it. We shall probably find your adopted sister; you have been to her the best of brothers: but many times, without knowing it, you have wounded her feelings cruelly—and now that you know her secret, I trust in your kind heart to keep it faithfully, and so spare the poor child a thousand pangs—pangs the more bitter, because they come from you, and are suffered in silence. Hence, when you speak to her of your wife, your domestic happiness, take care not to gall that noble and tender heart.’—Yes, Magdalen, these were the reasons that led the lady to commit what she called an indiscretion.”
“I want words to thank you now and ever,” said Mother Bunch.
“See, my friend,” replied Adrienne, “how often the designs of the wicked turn against themselves. They feared your devotion to me, and therefore employed that unhappy Florine to steal your journal—”
“So as to drive me from your house with shame, lady, When I supposed my most secret thoughts an object of ridicule to all. There can be no doubt such was their plan,” said Mother Bunch.
“None, my child. Well! this horrible wickedness, which nearly caused your death, now turns to the confusion of the criminals. Their plot is discovered—and, luckily, many other of their designs,” said Adrienne, as she thought of Rose-Pompon.
Then she resumed, with heartfelt joy: “At last, we are again united, happier than ever, and in our very happiness we shall find new resources to combat our enemies. I say our enemies—for all that love me are odious to these wretches. But courage, the hour is come, and the good people will have their turn.”
“Thank heaven, lady,” said the smith; “or my part, I shall not be wanting in zeal. What delight to strip them of their mask!”
“Let me remind you, M. Baudoin, that you have an appointment for to morrow with M. Hardy.”
“I have not forgotten it, lady, any more than the generous offers I am to convey to him.”
“That is nothing. He belongs to my family. Tell him (what indeed I shall write to him this evening), that the funds necessary to reopen his factory are at his disposal; I do not say so for his sake only, but for that of a hundred families reduced to want. Beg him to quit immediately the fatal abode to which they have taken him: for a thousand reasons he should be on his guard against all that surround him.”