"Jacques—where is Jacques?" she incessantly repeated, and the fact that Louison was really her daughter seemed to have entirely escaped her.
Arthur de Montferrand never turned his eyes from the girl for whose honor he had fought so bravely, and every time Louison looked up she met the eyes of the young nobleman.
A skyrocket now shot up in the dark sky; it exploded aloft with a loud noise, and a golden rain lighted up the horizon for a while.
"That was undoubtedly a good sign," thought Arthur, hastily opening the cottage door.
Loud oar-sounds were now heard, and a light boat struck for the shore with the rapidity of an arrow.
The keel now struck the sand and a slim form sprang quickly out of the bark and hurried toward the cottage.
"Fanfaro!" joyously exclaimed the inmates of the cottage, and the young man who had been rescued from the grave was soon surrounded on all sides. He, however, had eyes alone for the broken-down old woman who clung to Caillette in great excitement and gently implored:
"Jacques—where is Jacques? I do not see him!"
"Here I am, my poor dear mother," sobbed Fanfaro, sinking on his knees in front of the old lady.
With trembling hands she caressed his hair, pressed her lips upon her son's forehead, and then sank, with a smile, to the floor. Death had released her from her sufferings after she had been permitted to enjoy the last, and, to her, highest earthly joy.