The Count, however, held it firm; and having given directions to whom, and when, his baggage was to be delivered, he descended into the inner court, and cast his eyes round in search of his faithful friend Philip. But the Woodman had received at once his emancipation from the dungeon where we last left him, and the news that De Blenau was free; and though he lingered in the court to see the young Count depart, with something both of joy and pride in his feelings, yet there was a sort of timid delicacy in the peasant's mind, which made him draw back from observation, amidst the crowd of prisoners that the court now contained, the moment that he perceived the Governor, with many a servile cringe, marshalling the late prisoner towards the gate of the Bastille; while those less fortunate persons, still destined to linger out their time within its walls, stood off with curious envying looks, to allow a passage for him now freed from their sad fellowship. De Blenau, however, was by no means forgetful of the Woodman, and not perceiving him amongst the rest, he inquired where he was, of the obsequious Governor, who instantly vociferated his name till the old arches echoed with the sound. "Philip! Philip the woodman! Philip Grissolles!" cried the Governor. "Does he know that he is free altogether to return home?" demanded De Blenau, seeing him approach. "No, I believe not," replied the Governor. "I had the honour of waiting first upon your Lordship." Philip now came near, and De Blenau had the gratification of announcing to him, unforestalled, that the storm had blown over, and that he might now return to his cottage in peace. He also told him of the appointment with which Chavigni proposed to compensate his imprisonment--an office so elevated, that the gayest day-dreams of Philip's ambition had never soared to half its height. But the joy of returning to the bosom of his family, to the calm shelter of his native forest, and the even tenor of his daily toil, swallowed up all his feelings--A throne would not have made him happier; and the tears of delight streaming down his rough cheek, brought a glistening drop too into De Blenau's eye. Noble and aristocratic as he was, De Blenau felt that there was an aristocracy above all--the nobility of virtue; and he did not disdain to grasp the broad hand of the honest Woodman. "Fare you well, Philip," he said. "Fare you well, till we meet again. I shall not easily forget you."