"Now, good-bye." "Good-bye, Berthoald." The chief of the Frankish troops, having resumed his march, followed by his troops and train, soon disappeared before the eyes of the fugitives. Amael returned to the tree under which his traveling companions were assembled. Hardly had he taken a few steps towards them when his mother opened her arms to him: "Come, my son; I have heard every word. Now, at least, your renunciation of a brilliant career, that might have dazzled you, is voluntary!" "You were near me, mother, and yonder I saw the frontiers of Brittany. Could I be dazzled by any favors from Charles against my mother and my country?" "Oh!" cried the matron tenderly pressing Amael to her breast. "This day makes me forget all that I have suffered!" "And this, mother, is the first happy day that I have had in years--a day of unalloyed happiness." "You see I was right, your son's heart remained true," said Septimine to Rosen-Aer with touching kindness. "Septimine!" replied Amael with a look of tenderness, "would you doubt my heart in the future?" "No, Amael," she answered naively, looking at the young man with an expression of timidity and surprise. "I shall never doubt you." "Mother, this sweet and brave girl saved your life; she is now a fugitive, forever separated from her family. If she should consent to give me her hand, would you accept her as a daughter?" "Oh, with joy! With thankfulness!" said Rosen-Aer. "But would you consent to the union, Septimine?" Blushing with surprise, with happiness and confusion, the girl threw herself on the neck of Amael's mother, and holding her face on the matron's breast, murmured: "I loved him since the day he showed himself so generous toward me at the convent of St. Saturnine. Did he not there protect me?" "Oh, Rosen-Aer!" now exclaimed the old man who had stood near wrapped in thought, "the gods have blessed my old age, seeing they reserved such a day for me." And after a few seconds of silent emotion, shared in by the young apprentices, the old man proceeded, saying: "My friends, if you will take my advice, let us resume our march. We shall have to walk briskly in order to arrive to-morrow evening at the frontier of Armorica." "Mother," said Amael, "lean upon me; you will not now refuse the support of my arm?" "No, oh, no! my child!" answered the matron with tenderness, and brimful of happiness, taking her son's arm. "And you, good father," said Septimine to the old goldsmith, "you lean on me."