"Your disinterestedness, Du Buisson, is equal to your probity and zeal--I know it. For that very reason it will be an agreeable duty on my part to recompense your long services. That is not yet all. I shall leave you--you and Marion--charged with a mission that, I am sure, you will be thankful to me for entrusting you with. I can entrust it to no worthier hands. The large number of executions, which, by order of Louis XIV will turn Brittany into a vast cemetery, will make many widows, many orphans. Before my departure I shall leave with you a considerable sum in gold and valuables. You and Marion shall use the same towards alleviating the distress of the poor families whose breadwinners will have perished and--" Marion burst into the room. She was pale and trembling. In a broken voice she said: "Oh, mademoiselle! What a singular occurrence!" "What is the matter, nurse?" "I hardly dare tell you! My God, you will be so much surprised! It will be so strange to you--I am all upset!" "What is the matter?" "Margarid, the porter's wife, came up to the house to announce to me that someone knocked at the gate, that she opened, a person appeared and asked to speak--" "Well?" "I told Margarid to let the person come in; he did--I saw him. It is--Nominoë Lebrenn." "Heaven be praised! Thanks, Oh Lord, thanks!" cried Mademoiselle Plouernel, clasping her hands tightly and raising her eyes moistened with joyful tears. Immediately after her first transport of gladness, Bertha said to Marion in a voice that trembled: "Bring him to me. Let him come." Marion left, and Bertha returned to her old equerry: "You will not forget my recommendations regarding the sum that I destine for the widows and orphans--whom the savage soldiers of the Grand Monarch will have made." "Mademoiselle's wishes shall be carried out," answered the old man, bowing. He left the room; almost immediately after Nominoë entered the hall. His clothes were dusty; he threw his wallet and traveling stick upon an arm chair. He stood alone before Bertha. CHAPTER X. UNITED. Mademoiselle Plouernel stepped buoyantly towards Nominoë, reached out her hand to him, and said delightedly: "At last I see you again!" "How beautiful she is! My God, how beautiful she is!" the young man murmured involuntarily, standing in ecstasy before the young girl whose hand he held in his own. Never before, not even at The Hague, was he dazzled by the radiant beauty of Bertha as now. For a moment he remained as if in a transport--enraptured--in ecstatic adoration.