All this passed while the gray dawn was breaking, and after a night of utter sleeplessness; but when the sunshine came, warm and golden, into the windows, the woman arose in her bed, held out her arms to the light, and thanked God for the blessed day, which was to give back her husband from his living tomb! Then a feeling of intense gratitude possessed her. She flung aside the dark thoughts that had haunted her soul in the night, and was once more pure, womanly. All that she asked, was, that _he_ might share her life in any peaceful place that promised safety and shelter for the coming age which would soon be upon them. Marguerite saw the change, and it completed her happiness. To her gratitude had been prompt and natural as rain is to the earth. Heart and soul she was devoted to the royal couple of France. Next to her mother, and the father she expected to see, at perfect liberty, that day, her thoughts were given to the two persons who had been so good and kind to her. The sun was scarcely up when these two persons were ready for the summons which they expected from Monsieur Jacques. The remnants of a poor wardrobe were brought forth and arranged by Marguerite so deftly that an air of youth and refinement was imparted to the mother, which gave back something of her lost loveliness. Never had that girl’s face looked so bright; never had the eyes danced with such living joy; those slender fingers absolutely seemed to be doing fairy-work with the ravages of time. CHAPTER XLVII. DEAD SEA FRUIT. It was a great relief to Marguerite that there was something for her to accomplish; but for that the suspense would have been terrible. As it was, Monsieur Jacques called an hour before there was any hope of being admitted into the prison. “They would walk slowly,” he said, “and be there at the moment. It would not be the first time he had wandered around that old moat, and watched the grim towers as they blackened the sky. Now, thank God! he could look upon them with hope.” Marguerite lifted her blue eyes to his face as he said this. They were bright as stars, and for the first time this strong man felt a thrill of something like hope in his bosom. But for him Marguerite knew well enough that her father’s freedom would never have been wrought out, and she longed to throw herself at his feet, and bless him for all the joy that made the morning a heaven to her. They set forth more than hour before the time—Marguerite still carrying the precious pardon in her bosom; the mother, pale as death, for to her the next hour was momentous beyond anything a human life can experience but once; and Jacques, so strong, so hilarious in his rejoicing, that his very steps seemed regulated to martial music, and his face was almost handsome in its exceeding brightness. “Another hour,” he said, as he came in sight of the Bastille, “another hour, and the sun will shine on him.”